


Gwyrdd Arwar - Book the Fourth

by inspiritedmama



Series: Gwyrdd Arwar [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Child Abuse, Dobby Lives, Dumbledore Bashing, Fluff, Good Slytherins, Manipulative Dumbledore, Mentor Severus Snape, Remus Lupin Lives, Ron Weasley Bashing, Severus Snape Lives, Sirius Black Lives, Slow Build, Slytherin Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-01-27 10:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 42,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12580264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inspiritedmama/pseuds/inspiritedmama
Summary: -- This book is a continuation of my universe in which Harry is sorted into Slytherin. The major plot points remain the same for the most part, but have been altered through the eyes of Harry being surrounded by snakes, not lions.-- While this book is tagged Snape/Harry please note there is no relationship beyond that of a mentor between them in this book. I have no interest in writing a majorly underage student/teacher fic :) Books 5+ will likely have more of that... I tagged it as such so that people don't start reading it for Mentor!Snape and then surprise! (This is not up for debate, my book my choice of tags ;)CAN YOU ALL BELIEVE WE MADE IT TO BOOK FOUR. HOLY SHIT. I've been writing this story since 2014. Some of you have been reading it since early 2015 and that just blows my mind. Updates are weekly (usually) on Saturdays





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so here's the dealio!
> 
> First bit of Book 4, as promised, because the end of Book 3 was terrible. It's unedited for the most part so forgive spelling and grammar errors. This (and the second chapter which maybe I'll post soonish cuz this is kind of the prologue?) are subject to change. Not the overall feel of them, but small bits may need tweaking to fit the story which hasn't been written yet, lol.
> 
> Once I start updating regularly I will post if I've gone back and made changes to the start here.

Harry ran his fingers along the scratches in the frame on the underside of his bed, counting them under his breath. “Happy birthday, Harry,” he thought to himself as his fingers grazed the last one. His clock had died sometime in the middle of what he assumed to be June, and so he had no way of knowing exactly when midnight had passed. But if the hint of dawn peeking over the tops of the houses in Little Winging was any indication, it was definitely July 31.

After last summer, Harry had allowed himself to imagine a different sort of summer. A short visit to the Dursley’s where he would be promptly rescued by the Malfoys. But weeks had now passed without a word from any of his friends. He refused to believe that they’d given up on him. That bastard, Dumbledore, must have done something. He’d been forced to leave Hedwig behind when he’d been kidnapped from the school, not that it would do him much good with the bars and locks. He’d hoped, in vain, that perhaps given time his restrictions would ease up. After all, someone had to do the shopping, and the tidying, and the cleaning.

But not, it appeared as though the Dursleys had finally decided that the best thing they could do with their freak nephew was to lock him in his room and pretend he didn’t exist. If the sounds of arguing that floated up through the floorboards was any indication, Dudley at least was not at all pleased with this new arrangement. Not, Harry knew, because of any consideration for his cousin or concern over their treatment of him. No, it was because without Harry breakfast took a little longer, snacks did not appear at his side while he played his video games, and worst of all, it was he who had to walk to the store for the groceries.

At first it was also Dudley’s job to deliver Harry’s tray to his room. Although after finding Harry passed out on the floor of the room it was revealed that instead of bringing Harry the food, Dudley had hidden on the first floor landing and scarfed it down himself. Now Petunia was responsible for making sure that at least Harry got two, if not square meals, then perhaps very tiny triangle meals a day. Harry had long given up trying to talk to her. He’d begged, pleaded and sobbed to be allowed out. He offered to do all the regular chores and more, if only he could be permitted to leave his room and eat a proper meal.

She ignored him, and after a while he simply gave up. He hadn’t spoken since. Without Hedwig it was pretty strange to sit in one’s room and talk to oneself. He was certain that he’d heard somewhere that talking to yourself was the first sign of madness. Or was it when the voices started to respond? Either way, he had no desire to risk it. With nothing else to do, Dudley’s shredded comic books that had been abandoned in the back corner of the closet were only so entertaining, he worked out until he was exhausted. Unfortunately as the summer went on and the lack of food continued, it became more and more difficult to keep up with his workout routine.

He’d taken to sitting on his dresser, forehead pressed against the cool iron bars on the street below, and wondering about the future. How long were they going to keep this up? Would he be left here in September? Or would he be allowed to return to school. Surely Vernon would not tolerate his presence for so long. Knowing that eventually one of “his lot” was going to show up looking for him. But what if Dumbledore arranged it to be so? He wouldn’t put it past the old man to find some way to simply make him disappear now that it was clear he would not toe the line and become the perfect little solider that the Headmaster so clearly wanted. Perhaps this was designed to chip away his resolve and get him back in line.

Certainly by now there were people looking for him. The Malfoys knew where the Dursleys were, why hadn’t they come to get him? Maybe, a dark voice whispered in his mind as he watched the sun come up, maybe Draco was too busy with Fred to notice. What about Uncle Moony? He argued back. But Lupin had Black now. Black’s rehabilitation was likely to take much time and energy. Professor Snape! He smiled, certain that his Head of House would not give up on him. But the voice came back again, icy cold fingers like a Dementor wrapping around his heart as he remembered how tumultuous his relationship with the man had become. He blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, and ignored them when they slid down his cheek. 

Today was his birthday. Whatever else, he’d managed to hold onto hope that they would not leave him there. No matter what was going in their lives, surely on his birthday they’d remember him. But, as the sun cleared the last rooftop and it was fully day on his fourteenth birthday he was forced to admit that it was at least possible he would be spending the entire summer here. He refused to entertain the possibility that his confinement would last longer than that. However powerful Dumbledore might be, the absence of “The Boy Who Lived” when school resumed would be noted. The idea of relying on his notoriety to save him turned his stomach. He was no more special than any other student at Hogwarts. But in his darkest moments, when sleep refused to come, he desperately hoped that someone, anyone, would notice and rescue him. The sky was beautiful this morning. A riot of colors and full of hope, despite his circumstances. He smiled softly thinking if this was his only present today he was going to at least enjoy it.

As it would happen, the sunrise was the very least of his presents. No sooner had the sun cleared the tidy row of rooftops when the house was rattled to its very core. 

Petunia began to scream for Vernon that they were being murdered and Harry pressed his face to the bars, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of who it was at the front door. He also scanned the street, certain that the commotion would alert the neighbors. But not a single lace curtain was pulled back, and not an eavesdropper was to be seen along the entire length of the street. Desperately, Harry wondered if it might be magic. He’d seen some of the teachers use a small charm to make an area private if they did not wish to be overheard. And he knew that Pansy had been researching how it could be done. Could it be a witch or wizard at the door?

“HOW DARE YOU DISRUPT MY HOUSEHOLD!” Vernon’s voice was added to the chaos downstairs. Barely heard, despite the volume, over Petunia’s shrieking and Dudley crying that he was going to die without having finished the chocolate cake.

The commotion seemed to make its way through the house, and then suddenly Harry felt the tingle of magic on his skin. He wanted to cry. The feeling as so foreign, so familiar.

And then his door was exploding into pieces.

“Harry!” a voice said cheerfully. “You have your things?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A surprise present! A month before Christmas, and Christmas has come early! The rest of the first chapter :D Again this hasn't been beta-read and bits of it are subject to change if they need to. But I wanted to do something to celebrate the fact that I not only won NaNo... but the story is finished!!!
> 
> The draft clocks in at 80k, although I'm not sure how much will be pruned or added during editing. BUT IT IS DONE!! AHHHH.
> 
> There's still 5 more days left of NaNo, so I miiiight get working on Book 5 (GASP). But whatever happens, Book 4 is ready to hit the editing process is January. ARE WE EXCITED?!?! I AM!!!

As the smoke from the door cleared Harry was able to make out the shapes of two figures, one leaning on the shoulder of the other, both with their wands raised. It was Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, his godfathers - and both wore matching grins worthy of the Cheshire cat. Harry blinked, unable to believe this was truly happening, and wondered if perhaps the starvation had finally reached a point where he was hallucinating. There was no better birthday gift than his godfathers, together and happy, come to take him away, and in Harry’s experience the universe did not work that way.  
  
Behind the two men were his aunt and uncle, Vernon and Petunia Dursley. Petunia clutched the front of her dressing gown, her bright pink curlers still in her hair, and she was screaming. It took a few minutes, but Harry’s hearing finally began to come back. Although he could hardly hear her over Vernon, purple-faced with the vein on his forehead threatening to burst, “LEAVE MY HOUSE THIS INSTANT! YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!” In the far back of Harry’s mind, he had to give his uncle credit for thinking he could stand who to two wizards who had clearly come ready to party.  
  
“Ready to go, Harry?” Lupin said, his voice low and calm despite the chaos around him. It took Harry a second to register and he nodded eagerly.  
  
“Yes! Merlin’s beard yes. But I don’t have my trunk.”

“THE BOY IS UNDER MY CARE!” Vernon hollered while Petunia shrank behind him.  
  
The wizards ignored him. “Do you know where the trunk is Harry?” Lupin asked.  
  
“Locked in my old bedroom, I think. Under the stairs.”  
  
The look on Lupin’s face Vernon Dursley would be forever etched in Harry’s mind as one of the greatest, and saddest, things he had ever seen. The werewolf’s eyes flashed dangerously and Harry wondered just how close they were to the full moon. Lupin shuddered and for a moment Harry thought the man was going to transform, moon phase be damned. “Take me to my godson’s belongings,” he growled.  
  
“Godson?” Petunia squeaked, her bony fingers tightening on Vernon’s arm as she peeked around her husband. “That means you’re…” Harry could see the pieces falling into place in her head and then she went pale as a ghost as she turned to look at Sirius, “VERNON IT’S HIM! THAT MAN FROM THE TELLY LAST SUMMER! HE’S A CRIMINAL, HERE TO KIDNAP HARRY! CALL THE POLICE!”  
  
Sirius smiled in an eerie impression of the deranged grin his wanted posters had shown. Although he looked considerably different. More filled out, and his hair while still long and curly was no longer matted and uneven. “Yes, good. Now you know who we are. And we, unfortunately, have the incredible misfortune of knowing who you are. Now, we can all leave here with our body parts intact, and no extra ones. But I’m afraid if you call the authorities that will not be the outcome.”  
  
“Now see here!” Vernon blustered, but Lupin stepped in front of him with predatory swiftness, managing somehow to loom over the man despite being nearly the same height.  
  
“No.” Lupin cut him off with a growl. “Harry’s things. This is the last time I will ask.”  
  
Vernon stuttered, clearly weighing whether he would win, then he sagged. Keeping himself between Petunia and then two men, he made his way down the stairs. Lupin followed.  
  
Sirius turned once they had moved out of eyesight and wrapped his shaking godson in a tight hug. “It’s so good to see you, Harry!” Harry returned the hug hesitantly, still unwilling to believe it was not simply a hallucination. “We’ll explain it all later I promise. I don’t imagine you want to stay here that long?” Sirius’ eyes flicked to the bars on the window and he stiffened. Lifting his wand he aimed at the grate and shouted “Reducto!” The bars exploded, taking half of the side of the house with them.  
Harry grinned, looking out on the still quiet street. “That was bloody brilliant.”  
  
Sirius returned the grin and slung his arm over Harry’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get your trunk and get you out of here while the house is still sort of standing.”  
  
Lupin had Harry’s trunk and was waiting at the door. As Sirius led Harry out the door Vernon seemed to rally.  
  
“JUST WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING WITH MY NEPHEW?” His face turned several interesting shades of purple. “HE IS IN MY CARE, I WILL NOT HAVE YOU ABDUCTING HIM!”  
  
Lupin turned and wrapped his hand around the man’s substantial throat, pinning him to the wall. Petunia screamed but at a look from Lupin the sound cut off, leaving her standing there, mouth open, silent and paralyzed. “We are removing Harry Potter from your care. Permanently, and effective immediately. Once we have left the property, a representative for your Children’s Social Services will arrive to see precisely how you were keeping the boy. You will touch nothing in his room. And you will answer all of their questions truthfully and thoroughly. If we discover that you have done anything to paint a rosier picture of your abuse,” at the word Petunia squeaked, but Lupin continued, “Your ABUSE. We will return, and we will not be pleased.”  
  
Vernon Dursley was many things. He was greedy, selfish, ignorant, and arrogant. But he was not stupid, and it seemed he finally knew when he had been beaten. He nodded in agreement and Lupin let him drop, where he scrambled out of the way with a surprising amount of speed for someone his size.  
  
If Harry had been able to spare a thought, his mind otherwise occupied with memories of his bedroom door exploding and his godfathers going toe to toe with his uncle, he would have been thoroughly impressed at their knowledge of the Muggle world and their authorities. As it was, he simply watched, leaning against Sirius, as Vernon practically ran out of Lupin’s way. The street was, amazingly, still quiet. Harry began to suspect a spell had been cast to avert prying eyes, and ears. There was no way that the commotion had gone unnoticed. Perhaps the screeching, but certainly not the explosions.  
  
“Have you Apparated before?” Lupin asked.  
  
“Yes,” Harry said. “Sidealong, with Snape and Mr. Malfoy.” He missed the dark cloud that passed over Sirius’ face at the mention of the other two men.  
  
“Alright, just hold on,” Lupin said.  
  
Nothing happened. For one panicked moment Harry thought this was the limit of the wonderful dream he’d been having. A rescue, a showdown, but he was not to be permitted an escape, even in his mind.  
  
Lupin sighed, “I was afraid that might be the case. The old bastard must have put up an anti-Apparation barrier. We’ll have to walk out of here and find somewhere more private.” He led Harry towards the edge of the house.  
  
The closer they got to the edge of the lawn, the slower Harry moved. The air around him thickened, pushing against his progress. The grass reaching up and taking ahold of his trainers, slowing him and tripping him up. He fell heavily, nearly taking Lupin with him. Lupin scooped him up, muttering something about Child Services, and kept walking towards the street. They hit the end of the lawn with a thud. Lupin gasped in surprise as he collided with an invisible barrier. Beside them, Sirius stepped over the small wooden fence onto the sidewalk, looking back at them curiously.  
  
“What’s going on?”  
  
“I don’t know, something is… I can’t.” Lupin lowered his shoulders and tried to push through the wall. Harry could feel the inhuman muscles rippling as he strained, but he could not manage even an inch further. Narrowing his eyes Lupin set Harry down carefully. Free of his burden, Lupin stepped easily to join Sirius on the sidewalk. “Harry, can you…?”  
  
Harry tried. Screaming inside his mind for his leg to pick itself up and over the fence, off the carefully manicured lawn and onto the concrete walk, but nothing happened.  
  
“What did that bastard do?” Sirius spat. He was back over the fence, his wand up, moving it along the edge of the grass, other hand in the air, feeling for traces of the spell. “There’s something… something here.” Lupin took up a similar stance and the two men worked their way over the entire yard.  
  
“Thorough wanker,” Sirius said as they made their way back to Harry. “I’m sorry. Maybe… take a run at it?”  
  
Harry got to his feet, preparing to throw himself at the wall. The air tensed around him, thickening to a sludge like consistency, and his feet dug into the ground, held firm.  
  
“Take a run at it?” came a cold, smooth voice. “Is that truly the best you can do?”  
  
“And you’ve got a better idea, Snivellus?” Sirius sneered as Snape stepped into the yard and came to stand beside Harry.  
  
“Those blasted idiots are lucky they didn’t get you killed.”  
  
“Well at least those ‘blasted idiots’ were trying to do something. Not leaving me here to starve, like everyone else.” Harry couldn’t keep the bitterness from his tone.  
  
Snape swallowed, passing a hand over his face, but not fast enough to hide the look of regret. “Harry, you have to believe me, trust me…”  
  
“Professor, you keep telling me to trust you. But it is just going from bad to shit.”  
  
Sirius snorted, but before anyone else could speak Lupin cleared his throat. “Harry there is a lot to explain, but here is not the best place. The Muggle authorities will be here soon, and I imagine Dumbledore set wards in addition to the barrier.”  
  
Snape ignored them, “Time and time again Harry it seems I fail you. But will you trust me once again? If you can trust me for a little bit longer, I will take you far away from here and then I will explain everything.” His voice was low, not meant for the others’ ears.  
  
Harry nodded, swallowing thickly at the concern in Snape’s voice. Snape put his hands on either side of Harry’s head, his fingers pressed into Harry’s temples. “Together.” He took a step forward, pushing Harry towards the fence.  
  
The pain began as they pushed into the thick barrier of magic. The pressure pushed at him from every side, crushing the air out of his lungs. Still Snape was behind him, his body preventing Harry from shrinking back. “Relax, trust me.” Thousands of lightning pricks danced across his skin. He heard Snape’s voice in his head, urging him forward, encouraging him. “Don’t fight me,” he said, and then his presence was everywhere, and for a moment as they fought their way to the sidewalk Harry was not sure where he stopped and the professor began. Then, suddenly, the pressure ceased. The shift made his head swim and he fell back against Snape.  
  
“Take a run at it,” Snape repeated as he checked Harry over for broken bones. “Just the kind of harebrained thinking I suppose we should have expected from you. This is precisely why we told you to wait.”  
  
“I don’t take orders from the likes of you,” Sirius spat back, his tone dripping with anger.  
  
“And that arrogance is precisely what landed you in Azkaban.”  
  
Whatever Sirius had about to say was cut off with a yelp. Snape laughed and turned his attention back to Harry. “How do you feel?”  
  
“I’m… I think I’m okay.”  
  
Without another word Snape turned on the spot, Apparating himself and Harry away.  
  
“What the BLOODY HELL?!” Sirius shouted into the empty street.  
  
“Sirius, please,” Lupin pleaded.  
  
“HE KIDNAPPED OUR GODSON!”  
  
Lupin swallowed uneasily, trying to push Sirius’ wand are down. “I know love. I know. But you can’t do this here. The spell is fading, and if the Muggle policemen don’t come, the Aurors will, if you keep making a scene.”  
  
“WE WERE THE ONES WHO WERE SUPPOSED TO KIDNAP HIM!!” Sirius howled.  
  
Lupin shook his head and with a flick of his wand he shrank Harry’s trunk, putting it in his pocket. Wrapping an arm around his partner, he Apparated them out of the street.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey look, it's a chapter!
> 
> I know it's been a billion years, I'm horrible I know. Things have just been... THINGS. My herbalism course finished and I just sort of turtled for a while (after kicking the exam's ass, yay me). Then I've had some real estate stuff going on, looks like I may be moving next year! And that just took up lots of brain power. And then, well, I was just out of the habit of working on my fic.
> 
> In truth, some of the absolute bullshit that has been going on with JK lately (her liking TERFy tweets, and supporting the casting of a domestic abuser in her films) kinda sorta a lot killed great chunks of my HP love. Do I still love the universe and fandom? Absofucklutely. But it took the wind out of my sails right as I was ramping up to work on it. After some soul searching, and conversations with NB and trans friends... I've decided that the Harry Potter fandom has grown out of JK's hands. So I am going to continue writing the queerest, most diverse fanfic that I can :D

The green light of the medi-runes hovering above the bed cast an almost sickly glow on the room. Harry opened his eyes, his memory as hazy as his vision. Reaching out a hand without looking he fumbled for his glasses. Instead his hand met rough-spun wool and something warm. As fingers closed around his hand he struggled to sit up.

“Easy, Harry, easy.” Lupin’s voice was quiet, his hands gentle but firm as he pushed Harry back to the pillows. “Here, your glasses.” Harry felt the cold metal frames press into his hand.

As Lupin’s face game into focus, Harry was certain it was not merely the light that was responsible for the sickly pallor on his godfather’s face. Even around the full moon, Harry could not remember the lines being so deep, nor the circles under his eyes being so pronounced. “What happened… what… where?” His mouth felt thick and full of cotton as though he’d not spoken in days.

“You’re in Malfoy Manor, in your room. It’s been a week since Sirius and I came to get you. The exertion of escaping drained the last of your energy.” His voice was sharp as he continued. “It appears your relatives weren’t feeding you.”

“Oh, no, they did!” Harry cut in quickly. “Only… well. Dudley was on a diet and it made him feel better if I got less food than he did. And then… he was the one who brought the tray upstairs to put through the door. But then he was hungry, so he ate it.”

An angry growl at the door caught his attention and he saw Snape in the doorway, his face tight with fury. “No,” he snapped. He swept into the room, coming to stand beside the bed. “No one will excuse their abuse. Not even you, Harry.” His voice was ice but his expression softened as he looked down at Harry. He shifted his gaze to the runes for a moment before dismissing them with a wave of his wand. “A little more rest, and regular meals, and physically you should be well recovered. And should you need to talk-”

“Then he’ll talk to his godparents. Not his greasy old git of a Potions Master.” Sirius burst into the room and managed to both glare at and completely ignore Snape.

“I am also his head of house,” replied Snape dryly.

“And my friend,” Harry rasped, but the adults ignored him.

“As such it is my place…” Snape was continuing.

“We will just see about that! Now that he has us, we’ll get him into Gryffindor where he belongs!”

“I don’t want to be in Gryffindor.” Harry tried again but was drowned out by Snape’s laugh.

Lupin cleared his throat loudly. “I believe Harry is trying to speak.” The room fell silent and he nodded at Harry to go on.

“I don’t want to be in Gryffindor,” he repeated.

“Of course you do!” Sirius said. “It’s where you belong. It’s where your parents were, where they met all their friends. True friends. You know… if I remember, the Weasleys had a boy your age.”

“We’ve met. He’s horrible. He hates Slytherins…”

“Well, you’re not really a Slytherin, you’ll see,” Sirius pushed.

Harry sat up, his face flushed with anger despite his paleness. “I have had ENOUGH of people telling me who I am and who I’m supposed to be. Making decisions for me so I fit into their mold.”

Sirius opened his mouth to argue but Snape cut him off smoothly. “I believe your godson has spoken. Will you honor his wishes? Or do you respect his autonomy as little as Dumbledore?”

Sirius’ wand was out and at Snape’s throat before anyone could move.

“Padfoot!” Lupin shouted, trying to take the wand from the much taller man.

“Control. Your. Mutt,” Snape said with a sniff.

“Stop it!” Harry croaked. “All of you, just STOP.” He voice cracked but he reached up and firmly pushed Sirius’ wand away from Snape. “Don’t.”

Sirius dropped his wand as a look that was equal parts horror and betrayal crossed his face. He froze for a moment and then left the room without a word. Lupin muttered a wordless apology before picking up his fiance’s wand and following him out. There was silence for several long moments as Snape settled himself on the edge of Harry’s bed.

“You’re feeling better?” he asked.

“Actually, I feel bloody horrible,” Harry said.

“You belong in my house, Harry. I would not lie to you, I have had a lifetime’s worth of dishonesty… when the Sorting Hat put you in my house, I had my doubts. But you are a Slytherin. And if your godfather cannot accept and love you for who you are, despite your house… know that you remain surrounded by people who do.”

Harry swallowed back tears and shifted until he was sitting. He wrapped his arms around his legs, pulling them tightly to his chest. “Thank you, Professor. I.. I just. He was best mates with my dad…” he let his voice trail off, unable to put words to his thoughts.

Snape nodded, understanding. “James,” he cleared his throat and smiled wryly. “James would be rolling in his grave if he knew I was about to speak for him.” Harry half laughed-half sobbed. “James was a misguided and arrogant boy.” He put a hand on Harry’s arm to cut off the indignant response. “But that does not mean he would have grown up to be an equally misguided and arrogant man. In my own arrogance I could not see that last year, with Remus. And, if you will forgive the excuse, I was rather too distracted by my concerns for your safety to see reason.”

“Professor?” Harry broke the silence that followed. “Can you explain a bit more about what happened?”

A long sigh was his only answer for several moments. “Dumbledore is more devious and cunning that anyone gives him credit for. Unfortunately, the information that we have is pieced together, although one can be reasonably certain as to its accuracy. After the Headmaster succeeded in barring the wolf from the room, he performed the Obliviate charm on me. It was, most distressingly, rather successful. Once I was subdued, the charm was cast on Remus as well. You were removed, and an announcement was made to the school that you had sustained serious injuries and had been sent away to recover. Black’s involvement was never stated outright, of course. But you know how rumors can circulate.” He stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Had circumstances in my life not dictated that I made a dedicated study of Occlumency and Legilimency it is quite possible that I might never have recovered even the fragmented memories that I did. It took… a considerable amount of time. And then more to restore Remus’. In the meantime, it was discovered that your exact location had been Obfuscated. We were aware that we had a knowledge of where you lived, even having been there. But the details and precise location had been removed. We tried several methods to circumvent the wards, even attempting to follow owls with letters addressed to you. Malfoy’s house elf was distraught after not being able to reach you. It seems Dumbledore was very thorough in his methods.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry said under his breath. It sounded more and more like a near-miracle that they’d been able to rescue him.

Snape nodded his acknowledgment. “It was your Gryffindor friend, Miss Granger, that struck upon the solution. Whatever was done to conceal your location must not affect Muggles. After all your aunt and uncle, and people in their neighborhood, she theorized, would still need to see you, know where you were. Were the house truly Unplottable, and it’s location bound by a Secret Keeper, each and every person who wished to visit, including postmen and the like, would need to be told the secret. Given your family’s reaction to magic it was… unlikely this was the case.”

“But the morning you came to get me. They couldn’t see anything happening.”

“An anti-intrusion spell that your godfathers put up. It was quite common during the war.” He continued after his explanation, “Although we could not remember your precise location, it seems Remus had been employed for a time as a Muggle librarian near where your aunt and uncle lived. Something, it seems, Dumbledore was not made aware of. With that knowledge, young Miss Granger convinced her parents to search for you. She explained what had happened, and they spent most of the summer driving the streets of Little Whinging, hoping to find you. Fortunately, we were able to provide them with fairly accurate descriptions of your aunt and uncle. Eventually, they located the house. And… you know the rest of the story. Now it is time to rest.”

For the next week they kept him in his bed or, begrudgingly, at least confined to his room. Lucius, Remus, Sirius and Snape hovered over him like mother-hens, although never the latter two at the same time. It appeared they had settled on avoiding each other in lieu of a truce. Harry was disappointed, but he did his best to conceal it. He was far too tired to play peacemaker - particularly amongst those who should know better. Draco ran errands for him, insisting on being the one to bring up his tea and meals, and kept him company when the adults insisted he stay in bed. 

Finally Snape gave permission for Harry to venture downstairs and join everyone for dinner. Lucius immediately set about making a little party of it. Owls were dispatched with engraved invitations and the house elves, led by Dobby, worked nonstop to prepare.

Harry stood in front of his wardrobe, damp hair curling wildly, as he tried to pick out which robes he wanted to wear. After a summer in Dudley’s ragged cast offs, and the pajamas and dressing gowns, he was eager to wear proper wizard clothes again. A quiet knock pulled him away and he opened the door to see Sirius, dressed in his muggle clothes, standing nervously in the hall.

“Is everything okay?” Harry asked, stepping back to let his godfather into the room.

Sirius shrugged and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “This isn’t exactly the reunion with you I had in mind.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “First, I have to wait for Sniv-” he cut off at a sharp look from Harry. “For Snape to give permission for you to get out of bed. And now Malfoy of all people is planning your party. It’s not how any of this was supposed to happen.”

“They’re my family, my friends,” Harry said patiently. He’d known this conversation was coming and he hoped his volatile godfather would be able to listen to reason.

“But you have US now. Moony and me. We’re who your parents wanted to take care of you. We’re your real family.”

Harry struggled to tamp down the anger that threatened to spill over. He forced himself to remember that Sirius had been locked away in a place too horrible to imagine, for a crime he’d not committed. He fought to remember all of that as he replied, “You’re my family too. Not instead of.”

Sirius bristled. “It’s what Lily and James wanted. They wouldn’t have wanted this. Their son, raised by Slytherins. You’ll see. I invited that nice Weasley boy, the one that’s your age. I’m sure if you just gave him a chance. Trust me, Harry.”

The dam burst and the words poured out before Harry could stop them. “Trust you?? I don’t know you! And you don’t know me! Just because I look like my father doesn’t mean I am him. I’m Harry. The boy that was dumped on relatives who hated him. Who practically starved to death, locked in a bloody cupboard until those Slytherins that you hate so much came and rescued me. You’re so quick to tell me ‘trust you’ and say ‘we’re family’ but you weren’t there! You weren’t the one letting your house elf sneak me food so I actually had something to eat. You didn’t go into a Muggle village and buy me batteries so I could sneak a flashlight in the middle of the night to do my homework. Or help me through a panic attack and tell me I wasn’t a freak for having one!” 

His eyes were full of tears but he could still see the way Sirius slunk back in the face of his anger. He couldn’t stop. “You don’t know what’s best for me. Because you haven’t BEEN here. Stop trying to turn me into James. I’m not him! I’m Harry. See. Me . … or get out!” Harry clapped his hands over his mouth with a sob as the last words flew out. They hurtled across the room anyway and almost seemed to knock Sirius over.

“I was just…” Sirius stammered. “I mean… we’re family…” his words trailed off as he backed through the door. He practically bowled Snape and Remus over as he fled.

Snape, to his credit, bit back the icy words which were on the tip of his tongue. Remus sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“I’d like to check on Harry. But, someone should see to Sirius, and that someone should not be you”, said Remus quietly.

Snape nodded, unable to spare words for the Wolf or his Mutt. He strode down the remaining few feet of the hall towards Harry’s room without a sound.

***

Pansy and Hermione launched themselves across the room and wrapped Harry in a hug.

“We wanted to visit, but they wouldn’t let us,” Pansy said, releasing him.

“I really haven’t been that much fun.”

“Yes, but that was our job, to be the fun. And we wanted to.”

The dining hall was decorated tastefully with green and silver balloons and faerie lights, actual faeries flitting about the corners of the room with their little lanterns. Large taper candles stood on the table, giving the room a cozy glow. The adults stood back, talking amongst themselves. He recognized Pansy’s parents talking to a tall black couple, dressed in matching robes of deep red. 

“I’m glad your parents could come,” Harry said to Hermione. As Hermione turned around to beckon them over Harry wondered if this was perhaps the first time that Malfoy Manor had hosted Muggles as guests. The thought gave him an uncomfortable twist in the pit of his stomach but he pushed it down.

“Harry, this is Shuri and Dembe, my mum and dad.”

Dembe Granger was a little shorter than his wife, although both were tall, Shuri was the same height as Lucius. He put his hand out to Harry and smiled warmly, “We’ve heard a lot about you. It’s good to see you up and about!”

Harry returned the smile, “Thank you, for everything you did to help.”

Shuri stepped forward, “I want to hug you, is that okay?” When he nodded she wrapped him in a tight hug. “We were so happy to help. It was nice, our lack of magic was finally good for something!”

An awkward laugh tittered through the guests, but Shuri and Dembe both chuckled. They all made small talk for a few more minutes until dinner was announced. Harry noticed the elves hurriing to clear two place settings and realized with a pang were for Sirius and Lupin. Snape had, of course, been on his side, reassuring him that he had not overreacted. But Harry was rather certain that his Head of House’s perspective was perhaps not the most objective. He wished he could talk to Lupin, but he didn’t want to be disrespectful to Mr Malfoy. There would be time enough to sort it out later.

After the last plates had been cleared Pansy’s and Hermione’s parents stood, announcing it was time for them to leave. Immediately the girls started protesting, with Harry and Draco joining in loudly. The parents all shared a knowing look.

“Oh, we didn’t mention?” Shuri said with a bit of a smirk. “You’re staying here.”

“You too,” Andrea said smiling at her daughter.

Pansy and Hermione squealed in excitement.

“I hope you’ll forgive us the secret,” Lucius said. “I did not wish to spoil the surprise. But I’m afraid it will have to be an early night.”

“No, I’m fine. I promise!” protested Harry.

He shook his head. “I know you are. This isn’t about that. Tomorrow is your birthday present. We have box tickets for the Quidditch World Cup! We’ll need to leave first thing, and it will be a busy day. Tempting as it may be to stay up, you all need your rest tonight.”

***

Lucius sealed the letter and tied it to his owl’s leg. It flew off into the night without a peep.

“Do you think it will work?” Snape asked. He sat near the large stone fireplace in the study with a glass of whiskey in his hand. Floor to ceiling bookshelves covered three walls, the fourth was windows, covered with heavy drapes. A large dark wood desk where Lucius was putting away his quill sat in front. Snape studied the amber liquid in his glass before finishing the rest of it in a single gulp. 

“It’s a gamble.”

“That is not what I asked, Lucius.”

Lucius sighed and refilled Snape’s glass before pouring himself one. He settled into the chair across from Snape before he answered. “It has to,” he said shortly. “Unless you have thought of another way?”

Snape shook his head. “I just wish this plan didn’t smack of Gryffindor.”

“If anything, that will be precisely why it works. Because he will not see it coming. And certainly it has enough deviousness, despite its boldness, to satisfy even you, Severus.”

“And if he does see it coming, we’ll find ourselves in Azkaban by tomorrow evening.”

“Shall I let Narcissa know to expect us?” Lucius’ laugh caught in his throat and they both leaned back in their chairs, watching the fire in silence until it died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't promise regular updates, I'll be having inspectors and engineers and architects crawling all over my house, and I have to start packing up my crap. But I *am* hoping to get on with it already. Know that your comments help a TON, seriously, they're like fuel for fanfic authors. Thanks so much <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My yard is dotted with that bright orange spray paint, little survey flags, and strange people keep knocking on my door. Life is fun! lol
> 
> Totally unrelated to this, but I binge-watched this new show called Good Girls on Netflix the other day (literally, the other, single, day - entire season) and now I have this mad desire to write ridiculous fanfic for it. So a new story might crop up on this account but I don't want anyone to panic! I am NOT abandoning this fic. Even though I know some ppl have probably assumed I am, or I'm going to. But hell, Snarry hasn't even KISSED yet, there has been maybe half of an angsty glance that wasn't really a glance.. I'm not leaving y'all hanging, I SWEAR. I just have a kind of block with revising right now, but I have made a SCHEDULE and I am hoping to stick with it a little bit. In part, I've been... unsure, of the opening to this story, which makes me nervous to share it. The pressure y'all, the pressure! What if you lot all hate it? I mean you've enjoyed it so far but maybe y'all are just being nice! Idk, I'm rambling. I guess it dawned on me how much I've put into this story and I'm afraid it's not actually any good.
> 
> Anyway, enough of my angsty bullshit, here's the chapter... with a line that I actually burst out laughing while writing.

As the teenagers stumbled down to breakfast the next morning they pawed at sleep-bleary eyes, stifling yawns and shuffling into their seats without a word. Despite the admonition to the contrary they had stayed up well into the night, talking and giggling.

Lucius and Snape sat at the far end of the table. Sirius was mostly buried behind the Daily Prophet, but he folded down a corner and smirked as Harry knocked into a chair on his first attempt at sitting down. He took a sip of his tea and went back to the paper without comment. Lucius motioned for the house elves to bring the rest of the food and soon they each had a plate heaped high with eggs and sausages and toast along with a large goblet of pumpkin juice.

“Y’known,” remarked Lucius dryly, “At this rate I think they’re going to need a dose of Pepper Up.”

Snape folded down the corner of the paper again, his dark eyes scanning the table. “Or perhaps they do not wish to attend? I’m sure we can find a suitable family to take the tickets off your hands. A quiet weekend in is likely better for Mr. Potter at any rate.”

Harry forced himself to look more alert and shook his head adamantly. “I’m fine! Wide awake! Promise.” The effect was spoiled somewhat by the yawn that escaped as he reached for the goblet, but the adults laughed.  
“That would be rather too cruel, I thinkl,” Lucius said with a smile. “Eat up, wake up, and then get dressed. We’ll need to walk off the grounds.”

“Are we Apparating?” Draco asked. Side-Along Apparition with two minors was not impossible but it was not particularly easy, although Harry had no doubts that the men could both accomplish it. 

The house - like many wizard homes - was shielded with an Anti-Apparition barrier. Harry could only imagine the trouble and chaos it would cause if one could simply appear, unannounced, in the middle of somebody’s home.

Lucius shook his head. “No, I’ve arranged for a private transportation. But I do not want to take down the wards to allow access.”

Harry idly wondered just how many protective charms and wards surrounded Malfoy Manor. The place practically hummed with magical energy. He had assumed that it was the result of so many generations of witches and wizards living here. Draco had told him that the house and grounds had belonged to the family since before the Dark Ages. He could not imagine tracing one’s family back so far. But Draco had told him that for those families who valued the Pureblood traditions it was quite common.

The morning was crisp and cool, a light mist had settled over the ground, giving it an eerie feeling. As a swirl of fog coalesced around the statue of a woman Harry shivered. For a moment it looked like Narcissa and he almost pulled his wand out to stun her. Sirius, who had been locked away in the wizarding prison of Azkaban despite his innocence, had still managed to escape the fortress. It was thought to be impossible, and yet Harry had seen very real evidence to the contrary. He did doubt that Narcissa was an unregistered Animagus. Surely if she was, she would have escaped by now. He shivered again and hurried to catch up with the others.

Two house elves were loading a trunk into the boot of a long black limo that was parked at the end of the long drive. The tall man holding the door open wore a long wool coat with two rows of silver buttons. His black leather boots gleamed in the early morning sun. He tipped his hat to them as they climbed into the back seats.

“Isn’t someone going to Obliviate him?” Harry whispered to Hermione. She furrowed her brows and frowned at him. “The house elves, I can’t imagine a Muggle not talking about them!”

“Oh!” she said, realization dawning. “He’s not a Muggle. Well, maybe, but not a Muggle-Muggle.” At Harry’s baffled expression she continued. “He’s probably a Squib, or a Muggle who has a witch in the family. Like, if my parents were drivers. Now they know about the Wizard World, they could work here, if they wanted.”

“It happens a lot when witches or wizards marry a Muggle,” Pansy added. “Ironic though. It’s the way a lot of Purebloods travel around the country when they can’t Apparate.”

“Apparently it’s less beneath them to have a Muggle or Squib drive you around in a fancy car than it is to Portkey, or Floo,” Draco cut in dryly. “At least that is what Narcissa used to say.”

Pansy quickly suggested a game of Exploding Snap and soon they were laughing and teasing each other as they made their way through the countryside. Harry tried to participate, but an ominous feeling had settled into his gut. In his excitement over seeing his friends, and finding out they were to attend the Quidditch World Cup he’d managed to forget the first half of his summer. Although he trusted Lucius and Snape, with his life, and knew that they would have a plan for how to deal with Dumbledore he found himself wishing he knew what it was. It left his stomach in uncomfortable knots that he did his best to ignore.

It was nearly noon by the time the limo came to a stop. They had passed two wizards who were doing the worst job of dressing as Muggles that Harry had ever seen. One had paired a tweed suit with a pair of bright yellow wellies, and the other sported a kilt and a poncho. The driver had stopped briefly and spoken to the one with the suit, holding a big watch. He kept one eye on the timepiece as he waved them passed. Now, they were parked in front of a gate on a long stretch of road next to a small cottage. Mist still clung to the rolling hills of the moor, making it difficult to see far. It was, Harry realized, a perfect place to conceal a large gathering of magical folks. Beyond the house, even through the mist, Harry could just make out hundreds of tents sprawled across the field. 

The man standing in the door of the house was a real Muggle, perhaps the only one on the moor, Harry thought. Snape approached him while Lucius surreptitiously applied a featherweight charm to the trunk. 

“One tent,” Snape said as the man turned to face him. “Under the name Malfoy.” He pulled out his wallet and counted out several crisp notes.

“Nice to see someone local,” said the caretaker. “Folks today seem to be having a lot of trouble with money.”

“Really?” said Snape smoothly. “Interesting.”

The caretaker rubbed the back of his neck and looked out over the field. “Strangest thing, really. So many pre-bookings. Mostly folks just show up. And these foreigners… they’re a bit weird, y’know. Feller walking around in a kilt with a poncho, and trying to pay me with gold the size of hubcaps!” He turned to look at them again. “Figer it’s some rally, or sumfing. They all seem to know each other.”

“Obliviate!” said a witch who Apparated in next to the door. The caretaker’s eyes slid back and he swayed a little.

“Your map,” he said serenely, handing it over.

The witch walked with Snape back to where the others were waiting. She looked exhausted. Deep purple circles rimmed her eyes and her hair had been haphazardly thrown into a bun. “Poor bloke needs a Memory Charm a dozen times a day to keep him from asking questions. And Bloody Ludo Bagman’s wandering around in his damn uniform talking about Bludgers and Quaffles loud as you please. Not concerned a whit for anti-Muggle security.” She sighed, it was clear the event was taking its toll. “See you later, Mr. Malfoy.” She Disapparated with a crack.

“Isn’t Bagman the head of Magical Games and Sports?” Pansy asked. “Thought he’d know better.”

“He should,” Snape replied dryly.

They carried the trunk through the field of tents. If this was supposed to have the appearance of a Muggle gathering they had failed badly. The odd tent here and there looked nothing out the ordinary, but the effect was completely spoiled by the addition of chimneys, bell towers, and several that looked like small palaces… complete with a field of live peacocks and a fountain. Harry shook his head. It didn’t make sense to him why they didn’t just send the caretaker and his family, if he had one, a free vacation or something. Then tidy the place up before they got back so no one was the wiser. Not for the first time he questioned the judgment of those in charge at the Ministry of Magic.

A harried looking witch was following an older wizard, pleading with him. “Andrew, you can’t wear that. It’s a dress!”

He pushed her away with a shake of his head. “I bought it in a Muggle shop. Paid for it and everything!”

“It’s for Muggle women,” she said, sounding very near the end of her rope.

“Well then the men don’t know what they’re missing out on. This breeze around my privates is exhilarating!”

Harry thought the Ministry witch was going to cry and they hurried past before they all dissolved into giggles. Finally they came to a large spot at the edge of the field with a little sign driven into the ground in front of that read MALFOY, well hidden from the main road and the caretaker’s house. Lucius looked around and then tapped his wand on the trunk. Dobby and another house elf that Harry had not met appeared without a sound and got to work.

It didn’t take them long, and the tent was certainly impressive. Lucius had kept to the rules for presentation, if not strictly for execution. They were two green very sturdy looking tents. While Dobby and the other house elf set up a spread of sandwiches and salads on the table Harry opened the tent to put his pack inside. When he pulled back the flap he gasped. Beside him Draco laughed.

“You didn’t think we were all just gonna get cozy inside a Muggle tent, did you?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno. It just wasn’t what I was expecting.” He pushed the flap all the way aside and stepped into a small rustic living room. The walls were a dark wood and the stone floor was covered with a large fur rug in the center. Around it were several comfortable looking couches with pillows and throws, all facing a large stone fireplace. A small table and kitchen were tucked in the back and Harry could see four bedrooms and a loo through doors that opened to the main area. “Magic is brilliant,” Harry said as he set his pack down in one of the rooms with two single beds and then stepped outside to get food.

As they were eating lunch and marveling at the blatant violations of the secrecy act a roundish man in a bowler hat Apparated at the edge of their site.

“Fudge,” said Lucius, careful to keep his voice even. But the Minister of Magic ignored him and focused his attention on Harry.

“Harry! My lad, so glad you could join us. You know we’ve all been so worried since you disappeared from your aunt and uncle’s house.” He smiled, intending to convey his concern, but Harry noticed how it didn’t quite reach the man’s eyes. “Not going to make a habit of it, are you now?”

“Actually sir,” said Harry after a subtle nod from Snape, “I was rather thinking that I would.”

“Now, now,” said Fudge, bustling a little and pulling at his suspenders. “It’s like I told you last year. They mean well, your aunt and uncle. We’ll have a word with them.”

“I’ve had just about enough of words,” Harry cut him off curtly. “They seem rather useless to me. And as the Ministry clearly wasn’t willing to do something about the abuse,” he raised his voice a little, oblivious to the looks they were getting from witches and wizards that were walking by. “I’m glad that I have people in my life who care about me enough to step in.”

Undeterred, Fudge moved beside Harry and moved to sling his arm’s around the boy’s shoulder, but Snape moved so fast Harry wasn’t sure the man hadn’t Apparated. His tall frame loomed over the other man, physically pushing him out the space. “You will find that Harry is quite well protected and cared for where he is. And as we explained at our last meeting - the Ministry of Magic is no longer in charge of Harry’s well being.”

“Yes well,” Fudge said, pushing his hat further down his head in frustration. “We shall see about that.”

Sirius and Remus appeared seemingly out of nowhere, although as Harry hadn’t heard the crack of Apparition, they must have just happened to be walking up at the most perfect moment. Sizing up the situation they swiftly moved to either side of Fudge. They were an imposing pair. Despite his appearance as a haggard academic, Remus seemed able to turn the werewolf on at will. His eyes glittered amber as he stared down at the small man. Although Sirius had cleaned up and filled out greatly since the events of last year he still possessed the air of a man pushed to the brink, willing to do anything. The pair closed around the man.

It was Remus who spoke. He leaned down as if to whisper to Fudge, but his voice carried clearly. “If the Ministry of Magic would like to challenge the last word of Lily and James Potter they are welcome to try.”

Fudge tried, and completely failed, to look unruffled. He started to back away. “Well, we shall be keeping a close eye on the situation as you can imagine. Any hint of improper treatment…”

“I assure you,” Remus cut him off. “That his treatment at Malfoy Manor is leaps and bounds above that of the aunt and uncle you deemed fit guardians.”

“Yes… well…” Fudge fumbled in an attempt to have the last threatening word. But looking at the four men, united in their defense of Harry, he turned on his heel and strode away.

“What a foul, loathsome man,” Sirius spoke for the first time, sneering at Fudge’s retreating figure.

“For once, Black, you and I are in total agreement,” Snap said without a hint of sarcasm.

Sirius’s attention whipped around to Snape and his jaw dropped slightly.

“Easy there love,” Remus said with a chuckle. “Don’t want to faint.” He looked at Snape with mock reprimand, “Don’t go saying things like that, you’ll only confuse him.”

Sirius looked somewhat uneasy at the banter, but Remus continued to speak.

“We only stopped when we saw Fudge, we just arrived.”

Lucius nodded, “We appreciate the help. We’ve never had a legal footing from which to fight the Ministry who seems to think the abuse Harry suffered not reasonable cause to move him.” After a pause as though assessing the situation he added, “Join us for dinner?”

Remus answered before Sirius could decline, “We would love to.” He bustled his fiance away before he could protest.

The Quidditch pitch was even more amazing up close. Four times larger than the one at Hogwarts, it glistened in the early morning sun. Bright flags waved from the towers, and the entire area had the feeling of magic. Despite the early hour there were already long queues at the bottom of each tower. Harry spotted Fred and George, but they were with the rest of the Weasley clan. Instead he and Draco gave them a little wave. Draco sighed, but Harry pulled him along. There were too many eyes. Harry caught more than one witch or wizard staring at him, and then the familiar sneer when they saw the company he kept. Sirius and Remus trailed behind, and someone had actually run screaming when they recognized Sirius. It had put a bit of a damper on the festivities, and Harry was not looking forward to being trapped in line with people. It was a relief when Lucius directed them away from the lines to a smaller, roped off section, at the side of the largest tower.

Two aurors waited on either side of a small door while a prim looking witch stood with a clipboard, peering down at it periodically through purple cat eyed glasses as small knots of people approached and gave their names. Each time that Harry saw she flipped through some papers and shook her head, sending them away to the lines that were growing longer by the minute. Lucius confidently up to her and presented their tickets.

“Ahhh, Mr Malfoy, and your guests, welcome!” She inclined her head politely and reached for a fluffy purple quill. Looking at each of them she made small annotations on the parchment as she counted the party. “Excellent, everyone is here. I’m afraid no one but a house elf is up at the moment, but head up the stairs and make yourselves comfortable. There’s a small buffet at the back of the box, I’m told to tell you to help yourself, no need to wait for the others.” She turned and nodded to the aurors who moved slightly to the side, clearing the doorway. “All the way to the top!” she said cheerfully as they filed past, “Just keep going until there are no more stairs left!”

Harry thought his lungs might explode by the time they reached the top. Clearly he was not yet fully recovered from his summer ordeal. Snape looked at him with concern, but he waved the man off. The moment he saw the view of the pitch he couldn’t regret one single labored breath or pained step. They were in the center of the pitch, as high as one could be. There was nothing to either side that obstructed their view.

“Damn good seats,” Sirius muttered behind him, and Remus chuckled.

“Maybe the association isn’t the ‘worst thing in the entire world’?” Something about Remus’ tone had Harry convinced he was quoting his fiancé.

Sirius half growled, but shook his head ruefully. “Maybe.”

The others were gathering around the buffet and Harry moved to join them when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. An eager looking face, holding a camera, rose over the edge of the box. Harry blinked in shock as the bright light of a flash exploded, capturing the scene. “Harry! Over here!” 

All of the adults moved quickly to Harry’s side, but he noticed that they made no move to stun or hex the reporter, or to block his view. “Harry’s not answering questions just now,” Lucius said smoothly. He was all smiles for the camera, as were the others. 

“And you speak for him?” the reporter asked, quill moving furiously over a parchment that floated beside him while he hovered on a broom.

Lucius nodded, “I do. I have assumed guardianship over young Mr Potter.”

The reporter’s jaw dropped but the quill kept flying over the paper. “I can quote you?” he asked earnestly.

“You may,” Lucius said, slinging his arm over Harry shoulder.

Remus cleared his throat and the reporter’s attention swung to him and Sirius. “It was the wish of Lily and James that Harry’s wellbeing would be entrusted to Sirius and myself,” he wrapped his arm around Sirius. “However given the grievous injustice that was carried out, his long imprisonment and release when the truth came to light, we have been unable to do so. It has come to our attention that the Muggles to whom Harry was entrusted have greatly abused their position of power. We sought to remedy the situation, of course.”

“Given my own son, Draco, is so near Harry’s age, and they are great friends at school, it was a perfect fit,” Lucius picked back up. “I am more than happy to provide a safe home for Harry, and his godparents are frequent guests.”

“Of course, of course,” the reporter said smoothly. He took one last look around the box and nodded. “Thank you, Mr Malfoy, Mr Lupin, Mr Black, for your time. Enjoy the match Harry!”

The adults conferred quietly to one side, while Harry joined his friends again at the food table.

“How many galleons would you wager that whole thing was a set up?” Pansy mused.

“None, it absolutely was,” Draco agreed. “By skipping all the legal paperwork and simply coming out publicly as your guardian, with you looking happy and healthy and your godfathers looking on, it makes it hard for the Ministry to put out another story. Everyone’s seen you here, with Black and Lupin, and with Father and me.” Draco paused with a smirk on his face. “This is why you’re much better off with Slytherins.”

That was not the last reporter to appear, a steady stream stopped by all morning. Taking photos and asking questions. A few times they tried to pull Snape into the picture but he refused, lurking just out of the view of the cameras, but ever watchful. 

While they were posing for one photo, Lucius with his arm around both Harry and Draco, he bent down to whisper quietly. “Brilliant Harry, well done.” He squeezed Harry’s shoulder and then smiled for the camera. Harry returned the smile fondly, letting how much he appreciated and cared for the Malfoys show on his face. Eventually aurors started shooing the reporters away and an excited murmur began to ripple through the crowd. It was time for the match to begin.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weee! It's a chapter! I want to thank everyone who left such encouraging comments on the last chapter <3 I think sometimes we authors can get too close to a project, and start to wonder what even is the point. At least, I know I can. I'm in that phase of editing where I wonder if anyone will even bother reading it (hurray self pity!) And so I'm so deeply grateful for all of you that take the time to not only read, but leave comments on the chapters. It really truly means the world to me, and keeps me going even when I think this story isn't any good.  
> Okay, enough wallowing. That's probably the pain meds talking mostly anyways. I've been having a lot of spine trouble. Enjoy the chapter!

The match was everything Harry had hoped it would be. Lucius bought them all special eyeglasses called Omnioculars that allowed them to do so much than Muggle binoculars would have allowed. When the game was over they waited as the rest of the stadium cleared. Pansy and Hermione were talking to a terrified house elf that had cowered in the back of the box the entire time.

“It’s terrible,” Pansy was saying as they made their way down the stairs. “To send the poor dear up when she’s so clearly afraid of heights.”

“I wonder what kept Crouch,” Draco said.

Before anyone could reply they emerged from the tower to a group of reporters and curious onlookers. “Harry! Harry, how do you like living with the Malfoys?” Some were less friendly, asking if he had been drugged, or offering to help liberate him. He ignored those ones, looking around for that first reporter that had appeared in the box. Smiling at the young man, Harry stepped closer to Lucius.

“I love living with the Malfoys.” He turned and smiled at his godparents. “I’m so grateful to Remus and Sirius for trusting me to Mr Malfoy. They’re all the best guardians I could ask for.”

“Wouldn’t you rather live with family?” another reporter called out.

“I am!” Harry said with a smile. “My blood relatives aren’t very nice. They’re Muggles, and they don’t really like magic at all.”

The reporters kept asking questions, but the adults started to herd the children towards the tents. They fell away, apparently they weren’t allowed in the camping area. Harry was grateful. He was pretty sure he understood why they were necessary, and he would play it up for the cameras. But he hated the idea of having someone watch him at every turn.

By the time they reached the campground the party was in full swing. Even the Bulgarian fans were celebrating. Afterall, Krum had captured the Snitch right out from under the Irish seeker. Spirits were high all around. After a quick dinner the kids begged off to see if they could find any more of their friends from school. Harry was sure he’d caught a glimpse of Blaise in the Omnioculars, and Fred had written to Draco to say that they would be here as well. The adults conferred for a moment and then agreed, as long as they returned to the tent before midnight. With a cheer they clamored out of the tent.

Blaise was nowhere to be found, but Fred and George managed to catch up with them at the far end of the campground. Spotting them in the distance, the twins ducked into the wooded area, away from prying eyes. George, Harry, Pansy and Hermione moved a little ways away to let the lovebirds catch up. When Fred and Draco joined up with them they were looking a little rumpled and more than a little smug. After some good-natured teasing they sprawled out on the blankets that Pansy and Hermione had Transfigured from leaves and discussed the match.

It was very close to midnight when they all stood up, Hermione pocketing the little jar of blue flame she’d been using to keep them warm after shrinking it to the size of her thumb. Fred and Draco kissed goodnight, and they all made their way out of the woods towards their campsites. The first thing Harry noticed when they broke through the treeline was that the mood of the party seemed to have shifted. He couldn’t put a finger on it right away, but something didn’t seem right.

“Is that, screaming?” Draco asked. They all paused, listening. Just down the lane Harry could see that Fred and George had stopped too.

“I think it is,” Pansy said as the others nodded their agreement.

Both groups came to the same conclusion and hurried back towards each other.

“That’s not party screaming,” Fred said, pulling his wand out of his back pocket. The others followed suit.

Off in the distance they could see a small knot of people moving through the crowd. People seemed to be running away in all directions. The small group was moving towards them, and before long Harry could just make out something hovering in the center of them.

“What is that?” Draco asked, straining to see.

“Isn’t that-” Pansy started.

“The Muggle caretaker,” Fred finished. “And his family I reckon.”

They froze in place, uncertain what to do. Then the crowd parted enough that they could see who made up the group of people underneath the levitated Muggles. Tall figures, clad in dark black robes moved as a single unit, their wands held aloft. Hidden underneath dark hoods silver masks glittered in the light of the campfires.

“Death Eaters!” Draco and Hermione spoke together. Both sounded terrified. Harry felt a chill go down his spine. 

“We need to get Hermione out of here,” George said, already tugging on the girl’s arm to pull her away. “Right now.”

Harry couldn’t agree more. They all needed to go, but he wished he could do something. Felt as though he should do something. And yet he knew he was less than useless against a group of fully trained witches and wizards, and getting himself killed for the sake of acting the hero seemed like a very stupid plan. It was not his job to stop the Death Eaters.

They scrambled back, trying to dodge tents and party rubbish as they ran as far away from the group of Death Eaters as they could. The campground was in chaos. People were screaming, shouting for family. Groups would find each other, clinging gratefully to their loved ones before Apparating away. Harry was surprised more people didn’t Splinch themselves, but he supposed it was worth the risk. If he knew how to Apparate he’d certainly be using it. Why didn’t they teach it to students, surely it would be handy in an emergency? He nearly laughed out loud at the hysterical path his brain had taken. Surrounded by chaos and he was wondering why the Apparating rules were what they were. But it caused him to slow down enough to realize that he didn’t know where they were anymore. In the dark, trying to maneuver around tents and people, being pushed and shoved by panicking crowds. “Where are we?” he asked, not surprised by the waver of his voice.

The others slowed a few paces ahead of him. It was almost pitch black, most of the fires had died out in the stampede, although a few tents had gone up in flames in the distance casting an eerie glow on the abandoned grounds. Nothing looked familiar.

“Does anyone remember where our tent is?” Draco asked, turning around. His voice quivered more than Harry’s had. Unsurprisingly. 

Before anyone could answer there was a low gutteral growl from behind them. They spun as one, wands out. Above them, the night sky lit up in a sickly green color. An image of a skull formed against the clouds and as they watched, the mouth opened and a large snake slithered out, coiling below the ghastly visage. Harry shivered, and then a searing stab of pain from his scar sent him to his knees. Pansy reached out for him but he fought her off without knowing why. The image terrified him, pulled at a deep fear in the core of his being.

“Harry!” a voice called in the dark. “Draco!”

Harry could have cried. It was Snape. He could hear Lucius, Sirius and Remus now too, calling out for Pansy and Hermione.

“We’re over here!” Fred called. “Professor, we’re here.”

The adults were at their side in an instant. Before they could say much another voice shouted.

“There! Minster, it came from there.”

Two bright flashes of light streaked past them hitting Lucius and Snape squarely in the chest and knocking them backwards with a bang. 

“It’s alright,” the lead figure said soothingly. “It’s quite alright, we’re going to take them into custody.” His tone was patronizing and grated on Harry’s nerves, but it was Fred who spoke.

“You utter wankers. You think THEY cast the Dark Mark? They weren’t even bloody here when it showed up!”

“George?” came a voice out of the dark. “No, Fred… boys?” Arthur Weasley stepped forward, his wand casting a pale white glow on his worried face. “What are you doing here?”

“Dad?” Fred and George said together. 

“It wasn’t them, Dad,” Fred insisted. “It came from back there.”

The lead figure, who Harry now saw was Fudge, scoffed but the others raised their wands and moved past the group towards the bushes Fred had pointed at. “Stupify!” they cast the hex again. While they searched the bushes, Sirius and Remus reanimated Lucius and Snape.

“Severus and Lucius were with us when the spell was cast,” Sirius said, eying the Minister coldly. “We vouch for them.”

“You?” Fudge said with a sneer. “You who spent-”

“Many years in prison for a crime He. Did. Not. Commit,” finished Remus.

“Yes, well,” said Fudge, pulling at his suspenders. “We didn’t know, did we? You have to admit, it looked mighty suspicious.”

“You mean like this does?” Lucius cut in, dusting himself off. Despite having been Stupified he managed to look completely in control of the situation. “We were looking for our charges when the riot broke out. And if there’s nothing else, we will be taking them home, now.” His tone dared Fudge to contradict him. But before the Minister could say anything, Arthur broke in.

“Of course. Would you be so kind as to take Fred and George with you? Bill’s got the others, but the Ministry will need all hands on deck for this mess, I’m afraid.”

“Now wait just a minute,” Fudge blustered.

“Minister,” Lucius said smoothly. “Surely you won’t insist that we keep the children here?”

Fudge frowned, but he was caught. “Fine,” he huffed, clearly displeased.

Lucius flicked his wand and the two house elves that had helped set up the tents appeared. “Apparate Fred and George back to the Manor.” The bowed low and then made their way over to the twins. Sirius and Remus were already standing with Hermione and Pansy. “Let’s go,” he said, taking Draco with him as he turned on the spot and disappeared. Snape put his arm around Harry’s shoulders and they Apparated away with a crack.

***

The night before they returned to Hogwarts, Harry did not sleep a wink. He tossed from one side to the other. Each time his eyes closed his brain introduced new and exciting ways for Dumbledore to punish him. Mr Malfoy and the others seemed fairly certain that the press and ensuing support that they’d received at the World Cup would serve to protect him. Harry wasn’t so sure. Not with the Daily Prophet still hinting that Lucius and Severus had been the ones responsible for casting the Dark Mark. The articles never came right out and said it, only inferred and implied. The reporter - a witch named Rita Skeeter - had a way of twisting words and quotes. It infuriated him. No further evidence had been presented, the Aurors told them it was unlikely any more would be recovered. Whoever it was had covered his or her tracks well. 

Worry crushed him. Worry about him facing Dumbledore. Worry that while they were at school Lucius would be hauled off to Azkaban. Worry that Snape would be fired. He could not believe that after Snape’s standoff with the Headmaster he hadn’t been fired. But no one had mentioned it, and Harry had found a quiet moment to ask him about it last week.

He’d found Snape alone in the study. Tall windows, flanked on each side by floor to ceiling bookshelves, were covered with heavy drapery, shutting out the evening sun. The only source of light was a fire, lit in the large stone hearth that took up most of the wall. Snape was sitting on a chaise, reading a potions journal. Although he hadn’t moved when Harry walked in he knew the other man was aware of his presence. After a few moments Snape set the journal down on the table beside him, “Harry? Did you need something?”

Harry moved around to where the Potions Master could see him and nodded. He took a deep breath. “Sir, I wanted to ask something. But I don’t want you to be angry.”

Inwardly Snape winced. He hated the inference that Harry was afraid of him. Although he cultivated an air of ferocity at school, and rather appreciated the intimidation factor while he was teaching, he had a strong repulsion to the idea that Harry would think that way of him. Adding insult to injury was the thought that he had deserved it after his behavior last year. He cursed. Despite his apology, and the fact that they seemed to be making progress, he knew he had a long way to go before the relationship was restored. His childishness shamed him, and here again was a reminder of how he’d given into his baser instincts, something he had long thought he was beyond.

He glanced up, jolted out of his swirling thoughts by the sight of Harry’s face several shades paler than usual, and realized that he’d not answered him. “Of course, Harry. Anything. I hope you know that,” he added with a slight push to his words. Hoping the young man knew he could be approached any time. 

At that Harry smiled and settled into the other chair. While he settled, Snape studied him. Less and less did he see his father, James. Certainly he still looked like the man. A fact that Black could not stop exclaiming over. He could see the way the ex-convict watched the boy, the way he spoke to him. It was… worrisome. Regardless of what he thought of Black while they were at school. Regardless of whether he was innocent or not, although Severus was more than convinced that he had indeed been falsely accused… Ten years in the wizarding prison, surrounded by Dementors would change a man. Any man. There were plenty of ways to be dangerous without serving the Dark Lord, a fact that those in the Order during the previous war loved to ignore. Animagus form or no, that long surrounded by darkness would take its toll, even on a saint, and Black was no saint. He was grateful that soon Harry and Draco would be returning to Hogwarts, a little further removed from Black’s influence. Suddenly he realized that Harry had started talking.

“Sir, I was just. Well I wanted to say thank you. For rescuing me this summer, and for standing up to Dumbledore.”

In return Snape smiled, a rare event. “Harry, I will do whatever I must in order to protect you. I hope that you are able to realize that now. Even my behavior last year…” He stopped and waved a hand as if to erase the words out of the air. “No, I will make no excuses for it. I am aware that my actions last year hurt you, although I truly believed that Lupin was a threat.”

Harry nodded. “I understand, sir.” He seemed thoughtful for a moment, his green eyes looking as though he were mentally piecing together a puzzle. Snape waited patiently. “I love Uncle Moony, I don’t think it could be any other way. He was such good friends with my parents, he was there when I was little. But… I never, I never really understood. I know you said he was a werewolf and that we needed to be careful. But, I guess, well I guess I always figured he was a tame werewolf.”

Snape fought the urge to interrupt. Harry needed to get this out on his own, and it would not do for him to jump into the middle of the thought process.

“I couldn’t believe… I didn’t want to. That night… He really would have hurt us. Would have killed us, wouldn’t he?”

Snape nodded, but kept his silence.

“I can’t believe that Dumbledore would let him come and teach in a school. And I love him, but I can’t believe he’d risk that, Lupin I mean. I’m surprised that Lupin would agree.”

At this Snape had to interject. “If I had to guess, he did it for you, Harry. Like me, I believe that your godfather, both of them, would risk much in order to keep you safe. It can be… blinding.”

“I am glad I had a chance to get to know him, and I know that wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t been at school. It’s just… it’s strange. I want to believe in him. I want to support him. And yet three nights a month he’d try and kill me. It’s… well it’s scary. And I just wanted to say I appreciate you looking out for us, for me.”

“Of course, Harry. And I will continue to make the Wolfsbane potion for him even though he is no longer at school. With luck he will even remember to take it.”

Harry laughed, and then sobered. “There was one more thing.” In truth it was the reason he had sought the older man out. But he found he needed to work himself up to it. Couldn’t just dive in. “I wanted to ask if you got in trouble, for helping me. It doesn’t seem like something Dumbledore would take lightly. And well, I guess I’m a bit worried about going back to Hogwarts in September. About what he’s going to do.”

Snape considered his answer for several long moments. “The truth is, Harry, I do not know. It seems impossible that he will allow the rebellion of this summer, or last term, to continue. But I cannot ascertain what he plans. As far as I know, I have retained my position at the school. And you have been permitted to remain at the Malfoys’ thus far. I cannot divine the future, I do not know how things will change. I find it difficult to imagine he will be able to send you to the Dursleys’ after this. However, we would do well not to underestimate the man.”

They sat in silence, watching the fire slowly die down. When Harry stood to leave, Snape reached out a hand, gently touching his arm and he paused.

“Harry, I will not allow him to send you back there. I would have to be dead, and I assure you that my ghost would continue to make things difficult for the old man.” His dark eyes had the barest hint of a sparkle and he nodded once, as if to seal his words, then withdrew his hand.

Now, as Harry tried to sleep, he replayed the entire conversation in his mind. When he closed his eyes he imagined arriving at Hogwarts to find a group of Aurors there to take him into custody and bring him back to Number Four Privet Drive. Snape was there, hair tied back, wand blazing as he fought them off… falling as a group of wizards and witches surrounded him.

Hermione had told him that her parents were ready and willing to report the Dursleys to the Muggle authorities if he were forced to return there. He wondered glumly how much good that would do. He’d seen the way the Ministry handled the Muggle caretaker at the World Cup. Even, Harry shivered at the memory, not counting the way the Death Eaters had treated him and his family. They were Obliviating the poor man every few seconds all weekend. He was nearly certain the man would suffer permanent injury, at best, and that did not stop them. How much more would Dumbledore be willing to do? Tricks like that, or worse, to stop the Muggles from investigating Harry’s treatment at the Dursleys’? No… his best course of action would be to find a way to prevent him from going back there in the first place.

He wondered, as he stared at the ceiling, how difficult it would be to run away. Immediately on the heels of that thought was the knowledge he could never do that to his friends, to his actual family. Lucius, Draco, Remus and Sirius, to Snape. He couldn’t betray them by running away. No, he was going to have to find a way to appease Dumbledore. The thought made him sick.


	6. The One Where They Go Back to Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huzzaaaaah! The camping trip was a massive success and I managed to edit my way through about 50k. Which means except for a chapter or two, the novel is finished editing! It's in the hands of the beta readers now.
> 
> I hope everyone's enjoyed their summer and are happily back on the Hogwarts Express :D I am going to treat myself to a pumpkin spice latte and celebrate the end of summer! lol

The following morning dawned bright and clear. Harry sat on the window seat watching the sun creep over the horizon. A brilliant burst of reds, oranges and pinks. He took a deep breath and then Dobby was in his room, ushering his trunk and Hedwig’s cage downstairs to the foyer. Harry pulled on his robes and went to join the others for breakfast. 

“Morning, Harry!” Sirius said, beaming at him. “Thought we’d come to see you off!” He and Lupin were sat at the far end of the table.

“That’s great,” Harry said, smiling back and taking a seat next to Draco.

“We thought you could maybe use a few more friendly faces.”

Harry nodded, knowing that he likely looked as tired as he felt.

“Didn’t sleep well?” Lucius asked, looking at Harry with concern.

He shook his head. “No, not very. I keep trying to figure out what Dumbledore is going to do to me.”

“Dumbledore is in a very precarious position. He’s spent much time and energy making you as famous as he possibly could. And now… if he does anything to risk you it will seriously undermine his power.” Lupin said.

“Don’t underestimate the power of popular opinion,” Lucius said. “Wizarding Britain has only one real paper, and just about every witch or wizard that lives here reads it.”

Good plan or not, it was their only plan, and Harry had no choice but to trust it now.

When they arrived at King’s Cross station it was packed with people. Harry spotted a few familiar looking students in the crowds - and would have picked them out for wizards and witches even if it weren’t for the fact that he knew them. No other school would allow such a large assortment of pets. Trolleys with cages that held toads, rats, owls, cats and the like were most certainly headed for Hogwarts. Harry never ceased to marvel at just how much the Muggles ignored. If it didn’t fit with their understanding of the world, they ignored it.

Harry and the others slipped through the brick barrier to Platform 9 3/4 without incident. Harry was relieved when he opened his eyes to see the Hogwarts express, puffing smoke and surrounded by students. He’d had a fear he hadn’t dared speak aloud that the barrier would be closed to him, that he would be cut off from the wizarding world like he had been for the first years of his life.

Dobby loaded their trunks onto the train, bowing and wishing them a wonderful year before he Apparated back to the Manor with a crack. Harry looked around and spotted Fred and Draco at the other end of the platform. He gave them an enthusiastic wave, ignoring the angry glare he got from Ron. With a final hug Lucius saw them onto the train and they quickly tried to find a compartment that was empty. Pansy had beaten them to it, she was standing in the door near the end of the train giving the most crushing looks to anyone that even seemed to be considering asking if they could join her. When she spotted them she shed her icy gaze and broke into a huge grin.

“You don’t know how hard it’s been to keep this car! I’m glad I convinced mum to come early. I swear the older we get, the harder it is to sit by ourselves.” She waved them in and resumed her post - arms folded and glittering brown eyes turning with great disdain.on anyone who dared approach When she spotted Fred and George she quickly pulled them into the car. Harry expected her to come and sit down, but she took up her position again, waiting for someone else. A familiar brown head bobbed up under the window and Harry saw Pansy throw her arms around Hermione, giving the girl an affectionate kiss before tugging her inside.

“Anyone seen Blaise?” Draco asked.

“Not yet,” Pansy moved to retake her position at the door.

“I’m here.” The voice was familiar, and not. 

Harry looked up to see a tall black girl with high cheekbones and familiar slanted eyes in a black dress standing at the door to the train car. She shifted from one foot to the other, arms crossed over her chest.

“Blaise?” Pansy asked, looking confused for a half second. She recovered quickly and squealed, launching herself across the car to throw her arms around her friend. “Oh my GODS you look incredible!!! You didn’t say!” She pulled back, her face full of mock offense. “We could have gone SHOPPING!”

“You look great,” Harry said as she sat down next to him. “Uhh…” he paused. “Do you, I mean… what pronouns should we use? And is Blaise still okay?”

“Thanks for asking,” she gave his arm a squeeze and smiled warmly. “Blaise is fine, I’m keeping it. It’s she/her now. I hope…” she looked around nervously. “I hope everyone’s okay with that?”

Her question was greeted with a chorus of agreement and reassurance.

“The only person who gets to decide if it’s okay is you, Blaise. We’re your friends. We support you,” Draco said firmly.

“Does the school know?” Hermione asked.

Blaise nodded. “My mom wrote Professor Snape earlier this summer, when I told her what I wanted to do. He said he’d make the arrangements. My mom was great. We had a massive fire for all my other clothes and anything else I wanted. And went on a huge trip to Paris for new things.”

“Without me,” Pansy teased.

“Sorry Pans,” Blaise laughed. “It was.... it was something I wanted to do on my own. You know?”

“Of course, I’m just teasing. OOOO WAIT! This means you’re going to be up in the girls’ dorms with us this year, right?”

Blaise nodded and Pansy clapped her hands in delight.

The closer they got to Hogwarts, the more Harry felt the cold pit in the bottom of his stomach clench. He still wasn’t convinced that Dumbledore wouldn’t have a team of Aurors ready to take him into custody when the train stopped - although Lucius had assured him that his contacts at the Ministry knew of no such plans. Harry wasn’t sure how much information they’d be sending Lucius after the World Cup. The adults had all taken great pains to reassure Harry, and he was somewhat confident it wasn’t all completely just a brave face. He trusted them more than that. They wouldn’t lie to him, even if they thought it was for the best. Conceal things, perhaps, but he doubted they would lie directly. There was more respect in their relationship than that.

Halfway to Hogwarts the lights in the train came on and he realized with a start how dark it’d gotten outside.

“We should change into our robes,” Pansy’s voice cut through Harry’s contemplation.

“It’s going to be okay, Harry,” Draco said as they changed. “He’s not going to do anything.”

“No, he’s not,” said a voice from the door. Harry looked up to see Cassius Warrington. Behind him was a sea of black robes with the green Slytherin crests, filling the corridor up and down the length of the train.

Harry’s eyes filled with tears. This was his house. Supposedly the wickedest, cruelest house at Hogwarts, all ready to stand up for him. He cleared his throat, “You don’t…”

“Nope, we don’t,” Draco agreed, smirking smugly. “But that doesn’t mean we aren’t going to.”

“You’re one of us, Harry,” Harper said, a chorus of agreement rippling through the crowd.

“We saw the papers,” Cassius said. “And Draco sent a few owls. Your relatives…”

“Yeah, they’re not, well they didn’t treat me that well. Mr Malfoy has been so nice though!”

“There’s no way we’re letting Dumbledore take you from us again!”

“Besides, we need our Seeker. Can’t let Gryffindor win!”

As the train pulled into the Hogsmeade station the Slytherins stayed lining the corridor. Harry could see the irritated looks of other students as they tried to exit the cars, but he didn’t care. He’d never felt so safe.

They met up with Fred and George the next evening for their annual back to school celebration. Curled up on the chairs in the kitchen they caught each other up on the few interesting bits that had happened since the Quidditch Cup. Fred and Draco sat off to one side, talking quietly with their heads close together.

“They’re a cute couple,” Pansy said, smiling at them.

“Mhmm… but the question is… will Mr. Malfoy think so?. He wants to have Fred over for dinner.”

Pansy looked at Harry, her jaw dropped, while George howled with laughter.

“Oh that poor bloke. No wonder he’s looking so serious over there. Probably worried Draco’s dad is going to have HIM for dinner.”

“Mr Malfoy isn’t that bad,” Harry said.

“Well sure, he thinks of you as a son. You don’t want to date his son.”

Harry laughed, hiding behind his mug of Butterbeer. Scattered thoughts had been on his mind since the world cup. As the conversation moved on around him, he let himself consider it. The entertainment for the Bulgarian team had been Veela. They were mystical women whose siren song put anyone who heard it into a sort of trance, unless that person was not attracted to women. It was bad form, Draco had whispered, to comment on if someone was put under their spell or not. But Harry couldn’t help but notice. Of their party, Lucius had been the only adult who leaned forward before quickly putting his fingers in his ears. And of his friends, George had followed suit… so had Pansy and Hermione. But it wasn’t the reaction of his friends that kept floating around his mind, it was his own reaction. 

The song was interesting, he could… he supposed, understand what others found attractive. Intellectually, it was there. But, it didn’t go any deeper. He didn’t feel called to leap down and begin preening in front of the women. Harry was ashamed that his first response was to wonder if perhaps he had some sort of special immunity. Clearly Dumbledore believed he was special, maybe it applied to this. 

The far simpler solution was that he was not attracted to women. But was he attracted to men? He thought Draco was attractive, certainly. From what he gathered, most people who met Draco found the boy good looking. He thought for a moment, considering his other friends. They were all rather good looking young men, but he didn’t feel particularly attracted to them. Although he could appreciate them aesthetically, and he definitely enjoyed their company. Suddenly Harry flushed, remembering the feeling that a certain leather clad man evoked in him. He took a sip of the Butterbeer, holding it up in front of his face and resting his cheek against the warm surface.

Pansy looked at him, noticing him deep in thought, and leaned over. “You…. You don’t want to date Draco, do you?” Her eyes were full of sympathy. Harry shook his head, chuckling a little.

“No, Pans, not at all. I was just thinking about how I never really had an interest in him.”

“In him?” she picked up with a grin. “Is there someone??” Having assured herself that her friend was not in the middle of an emotional crisis, Pansy slipped right back into gossip mode. “You can tell me!”

“Nope.” He said, pressing his lips closed.

“No there isn’t someone? Or no you’re not going to tell me?”

Harry shrugged, enjoying her irritation just a little.

She scowled at him. But as understanding as she had been back in second year when he’d sent the Valentine (he still was not sure what had possessed him to do that) this was not a conversation he wanted to have just now.

“So, what do you all think of Mad Eye?” Harry asked, raising his voice as he changed the topic.

“Bloody brilliant,” George said wistfully, staring off. The twins had had Defense Against the Dark Arts earlier that day.

“Definitely,” Fred agreed as he and Draco turned their attention to the others.

“He’s really been there. Doing stuff. Has loads of stories. He’s really into it.”

“Better than Lupin?” Harry asked.

The twins looked at him, shifting awkwardly.

“Well… it’s just…” Fred started.

“It’s different, mate,” George finished.

“You have to kind of be there to understand. When’s your class?”

“Yeah, you’ll get it after you have your first class with him.”

***

All week there was one topic of conversation. Mad Eye Moody’s classes. They seemed to defy explanation. Those who had taken the class only shook their heads and said that the others would understand when it was their turn. It was with a bit of trepidation that Harry entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He’d not had any direct contact with the man. It appeared that Moody kept to himself, although he did make appearances at the Head Table for meals. He sipped often from a flask that hung from his hip. It was universally agreed upon that whatever was inside of it, it was most assuredly NOT pumpkin juice.

The classroom had looked very different under each of its former occupants. Harry’s least favorite had been Lockhart, who had covered every available space on the walls with portraits of himself, painted by himself. It had been extremely distracting as they primped and preened throughout the class. Not, Harry thought with a smirk, that there was anything useful to be learned in Lockhart’s classes anyway. Last year had been the best. The classroom had played host to all manner of interesting creatures. Rather than teach exclusively out of the textbook Lupin had liked to show them first hand what the creature looked like and how to deal with it. There was only so much, he had said, that you can learn from a photograph. Even a magical, moving, photograph.

This year the room looked a bit like a junk shop. Full nearly to bursting of all manner of strange objects. Most of which Harry could only begin to guess the purpose of. It reminded him, a little, of Aren’s shop, and he was suddenly quite sad they’d not had any time to visit Spindleshaft Lane that summer. His thoughts were derailed as his eyes set on a mirror full of shadowy moving shapes. They seemed just about ready to solidify, and then faded back into wisps.

Hermione was already seated up front, and he saw Pansy and Blaise slip into the seats next to her. The three girls were talking excitedly but he couldn’t make out what they said. The room was full of nervous anticipation, and Draco smiled apprehensively at him as they took seats behind the girls. Pansy twisted around to say something, but stopped - mouth open - as the door to the office banged open. 

Mad Eye Moody took a sip from his flask and limped his way up to the desk, large staff thudding which each labored step. Harry could feel his heart rate rise.

“This... is Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Moody said, the words appearing on the chalkboard behind him. “I am your teacher, Professor Alastair Moody.” The chalk underlined his name and fell to the shelf with a clatter. “Your curriculum up until now has been a blight. Creatures. Fluff! Not one of you is prepared for what is out there. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the purpose of this class. The Ministry of Magic thinks you will be fine. I think otherwise, and Dumbledore agrees.”

Harry frowned. On the one hand, learning something the Ministry didn’t exactly agree with sounded brilliant. Like Fred and George said, this man had really been there, on the front lines. He was an Auror, and he’d been in hundreds of fights if the shape of his body was any indication. Rumors had swirled all week about the number of dark witches and wizards he’d been responsible for capturing or killing. It would be exciting to learn from him. But Dumbledore’s endorsement gave him pause.

“Right in, no time like the present. There are three Unforgivable Curses.” Moody reached behind the desk and pulled out a tank with a large spider inside of it. He set it on the desk with a thud. “Can anyone tell me why?” His magical eye looked up, scanning the classroom. Hermione had her hand up. “Miss…”

“Granger, sir.” Her voice wavered just slightly as she stood up beside the desk to answer. Harry was relieved to find he wasn’t the only one made slightly nervous by the lesson. “They are so named, because they are precisely that. The curses are the darkest sort of magic. And the use of any of them on another person is unforgivable.”

Moody nodded and she sat down. “It’s also a one way ticket to Azkaban prison.” He reached into the tank and extracted the spider, holding it in the palm of his hand, wand pointed at it. “Now,” he growled. “Can anyone tell me the name of one of the curses.”

Draco put up a hand and Moody nodded at him. “Imperius,” he said quietly.

“Hmmm… a Malfoy, unless I miss my guess. You would know all about this curse, wouldn’t you.” Moody muttered and Harry frowned. Instead of offering an explanation, Moody cleared his throat. “Imperio!” a bolt of light shot from his wand and hit the spider It stilled immediately. “Total, control.” With a flick of his wand the spider jumped off his hand and onto the desk. “Shall she dance a jig?” The spider started dancing on the table, its legs flying. “Funny, no?”

The class started laughing. Nervously at first, but as more people joined in on the laughter, the more freely it came.

“What if I told her to drown herself?” Another flick of his wand and the spider scurried across the classroom to the fish tank on the far wall, balancing precariously on the edge. “Or, perhaps to throw herself out of the window?” Flick - she raced over to the open window, barely keeping her balance. Leaving her there, Moody stalked around the classroom. “Total. Control.” He repeated his earlier words. “There are countless witches and wizards who escaped Azkaban claiming that they were only acting under the Imperius curse.” Harry couldn’t help but notice that Moody’s magical eye was fixed on Draco as he spoke. He could see Ron Weasley whispering loudly to the boy sitting beside him at the table. “No evidence, no way to prove otherwise. The curse gives the caster complete control.” He finished his circle of the classroom and came back to stand in front of the desk. The spider scurried back to the table, standing completely still.

“That’s one, what are the other two?” He peered around the classroom, challenging them to answer. His eyes stopped on the boy sitting next to Ron. “What’s your name,” he asked gruffly.

“Longbottom, sir,” the boy answered, keeping his head down and his gaze fixed in his lap.

“Longbottom, eh. Related to Frank and Alice, then?”

“My parents, sir.”

Moody humphed and nodded. “What’s another Unforgivable?”

“The… the…” Longbottom fumbled over the words but Moody waited, his face impassive. “The Cruciatus curse.”

Moody whirled around, duster swirling around his legs. “Crucio!” he shouted, another bolt of light shot from his wand, hitting the spider. She immediately curled in on herself, rolling over to her back and writhing. Harry watched, growing more and more uncomfortable as the spider twitched and convulsed on the desk. He was sure, if spiders could make sounds that humans could hear, it would have been screaming. The thought gave him a cold knot in the middle of his stomach, and he wrapped his arms around his body, unable to move or speak. It appeared the entire class was similarly afflicted. They watched in horror as Moody tortured the spider. Finally Hermione screamed, “STOP IT!”

Mercifully, Moody stopped. Harry felt the iron fists around his middle relax and he slumped forward.

“One more Unforgivable,” Moody continued, not caring about the effect the spell had on the class. He paced loudly through the rows until he came to Harry’s desk. Harry could hardly bring himself to look up at the man. He felt small and wished that he could slump down and crawl under the desk. Although, he had a feeling that magical eye of Moody’s could follow him. “Mr Potter.” Of course he had not needed to ask Harry’s name. “Would you care to give us the name of the last Unforgivable Curse?”

No, thought Harry wildly. I would not. Instead, he forced himself to speak, aware of all eyes in the classroom focused on him, or rather, his scar. “Avada Kedavra,” he said. In his mind he could hear the voice of Voldemort saying it, a taunting echo alongside him. And the sound of his mother screaming. Memories he had gone most of his life without, until the Dementors last year had forced him to relive the moment of his mother’s death over and over again. He gripped the table, knuckles white, only faintly aware that Draco had reached out and covered his hand, squeezing it to console him.

“The killing curse,” the lecture continued. “Instant death. Unblockable. Unforgivable.” He let the words hang in the air before going on. “Only one person in history is known to have survived it.” Although Moody’s back was to him as the professor walked to the front of the classroom, Harry was certain that the magical eye was fixed on him. He straightened, determined not to fall apart in class. Moody pointed the wand at the spider. “Avada Kedavra!” he bellowed.

Harry felt the magic, it was slimy, oily blackness. Every fiber in him wanted to run for the door. His heart thundered in his ears. His feet itched to move, to run. To get out of there, away from this man. Away from how that spell felt. But he did not want to show weakness. He would not cave. If only his traitorous body would listen. In the end, it was Draco’s hand still covering his, squeezing it as a reminder that he was not alone, that kept him in his chair.

The class was deathly silent. Moody waved his hand, “Dismissed.”

Woodenly, Harry gathered his bag, having never taken anything out of it, and made his way out of the classroom. He was only vaguely aware that another student appeared to have been similarly affected. Longbottom. Even if Harry had wanted to say anything, the young man was surrounded by Gryffindors, and Harry did not fancy a fight just now.

Harry managed to shake off his friends as they left the classroom. While he was grateful for Draco’s steadying presence during class, he felt suffocated now. He stumbled through the halls, desperate for air. The storm from the first night they arrived at Hogwarts had finally passed and the grounds were crisp with fresh autumn air. It was to that sanctuary that he escaped. Pushing the large doors open he walked out of the castle and beyond.

He wasn’t sure where he was going, only that he needed to be away. He was lying on his back in the middle of the Quidditch pitch when Snape found him. Spread eagle on the grass, looking up at the cool September sky, he had managed to breathe deeply once again. With no stone walls in sight, the feeling of being crushed had lifted.

“Draco came to find me, he was worried,” Snape said softly.

“Sorry I missed class,” Harry said.

“Five points from Slytherin.” His tone was dry as he sank to the ground next to Harry. He studied him carefully. “Are you ill?”

Harry shook his head and pulled himself into a sitting position opposite the Potions Master. “No… not ill. Exactly. It felt like… like that time… in your office.” Harry’s face flushed with the memory of his breakdown in Snape’s office. The feeling of utter helplessness as everything had pressed in on him. Crushing and shattering. That time the man had gathered Harry into his arms and held him together while he fell apart.

Severus nodded, his face still lined with worry. “I am sorry I was not able to warn you. I did not know he would deviate that far from the lesson plan. You should not have had to see such things, none of your should have.” His voice, usually silky smooth, took on an icy edge. “Dumbledore is out of his mind, hiring that man as your teacher. He is… not fit to be around children. Although he was an excellent Auror. Nearly caught me several times. I’ve no doubt he shall continue to try while he is here.”

“I thought he was retired.”

Snape laugh wryly. “I do not think Alastair will ever retire. His kind never do.”

Harry pulled his knees up to his chest. “I hate that it makes me feel the way it does. I should be stronger than this.”

After a moment’s hesitation Snape reached out and grasped Harry’s forearm, squeezing it lightly. “No, Harry. There is no shame in this. There are some memories, some things… no one should have to endure.”

Harry looked up gratefully, smiling a little. “Thank you.”

Snape squeezed his arm once more, conveying a deep strength that seemed to wrap Harry up and give him courage. He stood, brushing off his robes. “One would be amazed at the calming effect that the physical presence of another can have. Especially for someone who was raised so long to believe themselves completely alone, unworthy of others.” The words were said simply enough, straight forward and matter of fact. But Harry could not miss the underlying emotions behind them. The weight of the words that could only have come from someone who knew, who understood. Snape had never shared much of his past, but Harry could infer enough to know it had not been an easy childhood. And had, perhaps, been a great deal like his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A question for you all. Do you prefer shorter chapters (2k ish) weekly? Or longer chapters (around 4k or so) less often?


	7. The One Where The Others Arrive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! It seems in general people prefer shorter and more often, so we'll give that a go :D Thanks for all the lovely comments <3 I swear they really do make my day!!
> 
> Fall has arrived in force in the Pacific Northwest. It's grey and drizzly and perfect!

Moody had dismissed the class early, so Harry was in fact not late for his last class. He sat through it, barely acknowledging the lesson and taking only the most perfunctory notes. No doubt, he thought, he could have Pansy or Hermione explain it to him later. By the end of the day he was worn out completely. He sat at dinner only long enough to eat an amount of food sufficient enough that Pansy wouldn’t report him to Madam Pomfrey as she threatened. When he was done he tried to unobtrusively slip out of the Great Hall.

Unfortunately for him, nothing he did ever went completely unnoticed. Ron Weasley hurried after him, flanked by Dean and Seamus. “Oiy, Scarhead!” he called loudly. His arrogant voice bouncing off the stone walls.

Harry signed, resigned to the confrontation. It was too far to the Slytherin common room to just walk away. He turned, “What do you want?”

“We were just wondering if you were okay, after today’s class. I mean… It sure was a lot to take in.”

Harry blinked, eying him suspiciously. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Draco, followed by Fred and George, coming down the hall.

“Yeah,” Ron continued. “I mean, we wouldn’t want to upset the Savior of the Wizarding World’s delicate sensibilities.” Ahh, there it was. “After all, it’s not like you have a mum to go cry to! Maybe you can borrow Draco’s… if she doesn’t try to kill you first!”

As far as insults go, it was a rather pathetic attempt. Ron wasn’t exactly known for his cleverness… he was a Gryffindor. But he’d struck a nerve with Draco. Harry blinked, and Draco had his wand leveled at the back of Ron’s head.

However, the flash that came was not from Draco’s wand. In fact, Draco wasn’t Draco anymore. He was a small, white… ferret. Moody stepped out of the alcove, staff held in front of him. As he raised it, the ferret that was Malfoy lifted off the ground. “Didn’t your parents teach you manners?” He growled, the ferret-Draco squeaked and wriggled. “Never. Attack. While. Someone’s. Back. Is. Turned.” Each word was punctuated by him bouncing the ferret off the ground.

“Finite!” came Snape’s voice, cold and cutting as he stepped in front of Moody and canceled the spell. Behind him, the ferret uncurled into Draco. “I am sure,” Snape said with deadly precision. “That Dumbledore would have informed you of the rules regarding punishments for students. Points off, detention… we do not use magic as a punishment.”

Moody eyed him up and down, as though searching for something. His gaze came to rest on the part of Snape’s arm where Harry knew the Dark Mark was. “Might’ve mentioned,” he finally replied. He gave Snape a last sneer and then limped back towards the Great Hall.

Weasley looked as though Christmas had come early. He grinned like an idiot as he scampered out of Snape’s way and towards the Gryffindor tower.

“Unfortunately, Obliviate is not permitted for use on students either.”

Draco laughed weakly, returned to himself but looking a little worse for wear. He tried to smooth down his hair, failing for the most part. Fred was beside him, arm wrapped around his shoulders and murmuring under his breath.

“I suggest you all return to your common rooms.” Snap turned in a whirl of black robes and stalked back to the Great Hall.

“I know everyone thinks he’s so great,” Pansy said in the Common Room. Being early from dinner they’d managed to snag the prime seats in front of the fireplace and had camped out there for the rest of the evening. “But I cannot understand why Dumbledore hired him. He’s frightful!”

“He might be frightful,” Draco said. “But he knows his stuff unfortunately. Father mentioned him a few times, mother too. He was nearly always a step ahead of the Death Eaters. I bet half the students in Slytherin had their parents arrested by him at some point.”

“Do you think it has anything to do with what happened at the Quidditch Cup?” Blaise asked. She had joined them, cursing Ron and Mad Eye thoroughly when they filled her in.

They discussed it well into the night. Not being able to count on the teachers to look out for them was no new thing. They were Slytherins, it was them against the entire school. And that included their Head of House, Harry thought as he struggled to fall asleep. It was Snape alone against the rest of the teachers, no matter what they might say. 

Thankfully, that was the last incident of note for a while. Harry and the others fell easily into the routine of school. He wrote letters to Sirius and Remus often. They were traveling the world, making up for lost time. Mostly they stayed in largely Muggle areas, it was safer that way. The last letter indicated they were currently on their way to Rome. Sirius promised pictures and gifts with their next letter. He didn’t tell them about Moody, or what had happened. In the grand scheme of things it was minor, and he didn’t want to bother them.

So far this year, Snape had not approached him for extra lessons. He could not think of an exact need for it, so he had refrained from asking. The Potions Master seemed busy, almost distracted at times. He did not linger after classes were finished, and had not posted office hours. Harry tried to catch him, to ask when Quidditch tryouts would be, but he simply shook his head and said Harry would just have to be patient. None of the other houses had any more luck with their Heads.

Harry’s fears were confirmed when Dumbledore stood up after dinner and cleared his throat. There would be no Inter-House Quidditch Cup held that year. For a moment the Great Hall was silent, then it erupted in shouts of protest and disbelief. Fred and George looked murderous, and Draco seemed like he would happily help. Dumbledore let the commotion continue for a few moments, then held up his hands for silence.

“I hope, that when you hear the reason, you will feel sufficiently compensated. This year, Hogwarts will play host to an event that has not been hold for over a century… The Triwizard Tournament.”

“You’re JOKING!” said Fred loudly, his voice echoing through the hall.

“I am not, Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore said with a laugh. “Indeed, the Triwizard Tournament is no laughing matter.”

Harry wasn’t entirely sure how he felt. He had no intention of entering the tournament, and just because there was no official Quidditch it didn’t mean there would be no flying. Perhaps some of the students from the other schools would play and they could enjoy a friendly match. He was looking forward to a quiet year, cheering on the Hogwarts champion. Harry had wondered, if Dumbledore would find some way to make him the champion against his wishes. He certainly was not intending to enter.

The next morning the Great Hall was rife with speculation as to how the other schools would be arriving. Ron Weasley was holding court at the Gryffindor table, convinced it would be portkeys. It wasn’t an entirely awful idea, although Harry personally hated that method of travel. Another leading contender was the Floo Network. Harry wondered if perhaps they would side along Apparate to Hogsmeade and take the horseless carriages.

He heard every possibility and then some as he ate his bacon and sausages. Finally, Dumbledore moved to the large podium and lifted his hands for quiet. Harry wasn’t sure the school had ever fallen silent so quickly - a testament to how eager they were to see the other schools. “I have just been informed that the delegation from Beauxbatons will be arriving any moment. If everyone could please make their way out to the courtyard in an orderly fashion, we will meet our guests!”

Harry wasn’t sure what Dumbledore’s idea of an orderly fashion was, but the way in which everyone pressed themselves through the doors and out into the yard likely wasn’t it. The students milled about, eagerly watching the path from the front gates. After a few moments Harry was bored with waiting an looked up, intent on daydreaming. In the distance, just rising over the far ridge of the mountains, was an odd shape. Tugging on Draco’s arm he pointed at it. He wasn’t the only one. Soon most of the students were watching the spec grow larger.

As it got closer Harry realized it was the largest carriage he had ever seen, pulled by beasts that seemed too large to be real. Massive wings beat against the air as they pulled the light blue carriage through the sky. Something that large, even as graceful as they appeared, makes an impression when it hits the ground. They landed with a thud, rocks flying as the carriage skidded to a halt. Dumbledore waited until the debris had died down before approaching the opening door. The largest woman Harry had ever seen stepped out.

Suddenly, the size of everything made sense. She towered over Dumbledore, although she allowed him to politely take her hand and help her down. “Madam Maxine,” he bent and kissed her hand in greeting.

“Dumblydore,” she purred in a French accent. “Thank you for ‘aving us at your school this year.”

Curious, Harry tried to peer past her to see the students. Were they all as tall as their headmistress? Surely that would give them an unfair advantage in the tournament. But, as the students began to file out of the carriage he saw that they were all, as far as he could tell, average height. They were dressed in light blue robes that matched the carriage, with dainty hats perched on their heads. The girls had soft white mufflers to keep their hands warm and the boys had cloaks of the same material.

“Please,” Dumbledore said as he led her through the crowd towards the door. “Come inside where it is warm.”

Before they had a chance to get inside, the water of the Black Lake began to boil. Without waiting for permission the students crowded around the edges of the lake. Harry half expected someone to get snatched by the Giant Squid, or at least fall in. Bubbles began to wash up on shore as the water continued to churn. Suddenly, at the epicenter, a dark spire breached the water. It rose higher and higher, joined by two others. Then, a crow’s nest and a sail appeared. The gathered students from both schools watched in amazement as a dark, old fashioned sailing ship rose from the water. It crested high, then settled with a woosh.

The rails of the ship were lined with students in dark cloaks and mufflers, thick fur hats were pulled low, obscuring their faces. As the ship settled a gangplank was lowered. Dumbledore and Madam Maxine waited at the water’s edge. “Welcome, sons and daughters of Durmstrang!” he called.

A spry looking man walked down the plank. “Headmaster Karkarov,” Dumbledore said, holding out a hand.

“Merlin’s beard!” Draco explained, trying to keep his voice down. “He can’t…”

Harry looked over. “Draco, what’s wrong?”

“Karkarov was a friend of mother’s,” he hissed, “One of… those kinds of friends.”

“A Death Eater?” Harry mouthed.

When Draco nodded they turned to watch Dumbledore greeting the other students.

A Death Eater roaming the halls, one of the most notorious Aurors and dark wizard catchers teaching a class… it was not going to be the kind of year where Harry could sit back, watch the fun, and do his school work… Somehow he just had a feeling.


	8. The One I Almost Forgot to Post

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol! I rearranged things in my big document, and forgot to post this one. I posted the NEXT chapter and was juuust about to go play video games, when I realized something was wrong. Haha. WHOOPS. That would have mucked things up. But I think I got it down before anyone saw it.

The Great Hall had been rearranged for dinner. Extra tables had been added, and things were a little more crowded even up at the Staff Table. Harry recognized Fudge and Bagman from the Quidditch Cup, and noticed Snape was seated well away from them and keeping to himself. Those are the Ministry had been reluctant to apologize for accusing Snape and Lucius of conjuring the Dark Mark, even though it had been shown that neither man was involved. When Fudge spotted Harry he left the Staff Table and made his way over. It took a great deal of effort for Harry to keep the snarl off his face as Fudge slung his arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“Harry, my boy! It’s good to see you safe and sound at Hogwarts!”

“I was safe and sound at Malfoy Manor,” Harry grumbled.

“Yes, well,” Fudge blustered. 

“In fact, the place I haven’t been safe is with the Dursley’s.”

“Now, now my boy… surely they mean well…”

“No, they’re just mean. And bigots who hate magic besides. They abused me, starved me, and my cousin took great joy in torturing me. It is not a safe place. And I cannot figure out why you insist I keep going back there. I’m lucky to have survived long enough to come to school.” 

Fudge gaped at him, looking around uncomfortably at the students who were watching him intently, their faces full of scorn. Without a word he started back up towards the Staff Table.

“Oh, and Mr. Fudge?” The Minister of Magic paused and looked back at Harry. “I’m not your boy.”

Several of the Slytherins sitting closest to him began to clap, including Draco, Pansy, and Blaise. The Minister bristled, but turned sharply on his heel and almost ran back to his seat. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and suddenly Snape’s voice was low in his ear. He hadn’t noticed Snape leave the Staff Table and move within earshot of the exchange.

“That was well done, Harry. Although I think you may have just made an enemy.”

“He’s always been my enemy,” Harry replied fiercely, “he just didn’t know it.”

Snape nodded. “There is virtue in letting an enemy think he is your friend. But I do not begrudge you telling Fudgeoff. He had it coming.” Snape squeezed his shoulder again before taking his leave.

“Welcome!” Dumbledore called, the Great Hall quietening down. “Welcome to Hogwarts, to our special guests from both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. We are honored to have you with us this year. I trust that the Hogwarts students will go out of their way to ensure that our guests have a pleasurable visit. Now, I know that many of you are eager to discover how we will choose the Triwizard Champion. There will, of course, be one representative from each school.” Before he could go on, Fudgestood, looking meaningfully over at Dumbledore, clearing his throat loudly.

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore said smoothly as though he had never been interrupted. “The Ministry of Magic has seen fit to request a few additional safeguards. Most notably, an age restriction has been placed on the contenders.” Angry murmuring broke out across the crowd and he lifted a hand to quiet them. It was only partially successful. “Only students who are seventeen years of age or older will be permitted to submit their name for consideration.”

The anger that had died down only slightly when he’d lifted his hand erupted into full scale yelling. Harry could see the Weasley twins shouting across the hall, and all around him were cries of “That’s rubbish!” Harry slumped down, more relieved than he could say. 

He wasn’t seventeen. Not even close. There was no way he would have to compete. No pressure from other students who felt that as the Boy Who Lived he owed them something. That he owed them his life, ad infinitum, to perform as they saw fit. Even Dumbledore would be hard pressed to submit his name given that he was several years underage. Beside him, Draco sighed heavily.

“You really wanted to compete, didn’t you?” Harry asked.

Draco shrugged. “Yeah, okay. I did. I thought it would be cool. Chance to win a bit of fame for myself.”

Harry tried to console his friend, but he didn’t really understand. Fame was a curse, something he hoped would disappear quickly. Not something to be sought after. Still, it had meant something to Draco, this chance to achieve it, and he would at least be a good friend and sympathize with that.

It took Dumbledore several minutes to get the Great Hall under control. Finally he was able to continue. “You must know. The submission of one’s name constitutes a binding magical contract. There is no withdrawal process. Only death, or completion of the Tournament will free you from the obligation. It is therefore with the utmost consideration and sobriety that one puts forward their name.”

A large box had been placed at the front of the room before dinner and he moved to it now. “As for the details of the selection.” He tapped his wand on the box and it began to shudder, falling away to reveal a rather crude looking goblet. When the last piece of the box had fallen free, the goblet burst into blue flames. “I give you… the Goblet of Fire!” Despite the anger at the age restriction, most of the students clapped enthusiastically. “Write your name on a slip of parchment, and place it into the Goblet. After tonight’s feast the Goblet will be placed in the front hall, for those who are able and desiring to enter. Tuck in!”

Food appeared on the plates, but Harry noticed several of the older Slytherin students were passing around bits of parchment, writing down their names. He saw Gemma put her name in and cheered along with the others, wishing her the best of luck. Just because he didn’t want to compete didn’t mean he was entirely uninterested in the Tournament. If anyone from Hogwarts was going to compete, he hoped it would be a Slytherin.

When dinner was over the students went back to their common rooms. Harry wasn’t sure where the Durmstrang or Beauxbatons students went, although he saw Karkarov leading his students back outside. Perhaps they slept in their ship? And the carriage that Beauxbatons traveled in certainly looked big enough to house the handful of students from there.

The next morning the front hall was thick with students. They were all crowded around the Goblet. Over the crowd they could see a matching set of ginger heads so they pushed through. Hermione was standing next to the twins, looking displeased. 

“That-” she gestured forcefully at a thin red line on the stone floor “- is not going to let you past.”

“Age line,” Draco said wistfully. “There’s nothing about the Goblet that would prevent someone under seventeen from entering to become a Champion. My guess is Dumbledore drew it himself.”

“That’s why we have this!” Fred beamed, pointing to the vials he and George held.

“The solution to a stupid problem,” George said proudly. “We only need to be a little bit older!”

“Care to try?” Fred asked, pulling a third vial out from his pocket and offering it to the Slytherins.

Harry shook his head, but Pansy and Draco both said yes.

“We made enough for everyone.” George pulled more vials from his pocket and handed one to Pansy, waving the other in front of Harry’s face.

“Nope,” Harry said firmly. “I meant it when I said I wanted a quiet year with nothing trying to kill me, except for homework and exams.”

“Suit yourself,” George shrugged and pocketed the vial. 

Hermione rolled her eyes at them, “It’s not going to work,” she said, shaking her head.

“Bottoms up!” they said in unison, tipping their heads back and downing the contents.

The four of them linked arms and stepped over the line. They whooped and hollered, dancing their way over towards the Goblet. Then, as if a rope had been tied around their ankles, they were picked up and flung out of the circle. They landed in a heap near the front doors, their hair turned grey, and all four of them sprouted matching beards that reached to their stomachs. 

Harry and Hermione howled with laughter along with everyone watching. They wiped tears from their eyes as they walked over to the others.

“You can’t possibly have been daft enough to think that would fool Dumbledore’s age line,” Harry gasped.

“That’s exactly what we thought!” Fred said, tugging on his beard.

“It was so daft, he couldn’t possibly have thought of it.” George grinned, tugging on his own beard.

“So uhh… how long does this last?” Draco said, looking down with a frown. “It’s not really my look.”

“Well,” said Pansy, flicking closed a pocket mirror, “I think I look fabulous.”

“C’mon,” Fred pulled Draco to his feet while George offered Pansy his arm. “Off to the hospital wing with us.”

“Don’t worry,” George said cheerily, “We wrote down everything we put in it.”

“Mostly!” Fred agreed.

As they headed towards the Infirmary the crowd on the other side of the room parted, revealing the delegation from Beauxbatons. They were led by a tall pale girl with long blond hair. Harry wondered for a brief moment if she was any relation to Draco. She could have been his twin sister. One by one the students put their names into the Goblet. Each time the blue flame flared, licking the parchment and pulling it down into the crude stone.

They saw the four newly-turned-senior citizens safely under Madam Pomfrey’s care, she hadn’t even batted an eye at Fred and George, showing them to their beds. They had claimed two beds at the far end of the infirmary for their personal use in second year, declaring frequent visitor privileges - and had somehow charmed the strict nurse into allowing it. Then it was time for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry shuddered. Moody had been hinting for a while that the practical side of the course was coming up, and with a sinking feeling Harry just knew it was going to be today. After all, why wouldn’t it be Halloween? Everything went wrong at Hogwarts on Halloween.


	9. The One With Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so... sorry about no chapter last weekend. I went into the dentist for what was supposed to be a really simple procedure. It. Was. NOT. I'm still not over it (why is mouth/tooth pain so terrible????) but I'm coherent enough that I think I can post a chapter without deleting the entire story or something, haha.
> 
> Can I just say, that video of the seal throwing an octopus at a kayaker's face is a MILLION times more funny when you're stoned out of your gourd?
> 
> Now I'm going to go float my eyeballs :D

Harry was not wrong. As he filed into his seat, wishing that Draco and Pansy wouldn’t be long with Madam Pomfrey, Moody stalked to the front of the classroom with an ugly smile.

“Now, you’ve learned all about the Imperius curse, it’s time you learned how to fight it.” He ignored the surprised gasps from the class, but Blaise cut him off before he could continue.

“Isn’t it illegal to cast the Imperius curse on someone?” her face was concerned.

“Well, if you’d rather wait and find out what it feels like and try to figure out how to throw it off when a Dark wizard is trying to control you… be my guest.” Moody growled at her. “The sops at the Ministry think you’re too young, too delicate, for this kind of work. If you want to prove them wrong, line up.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. He did not like Moody, fervently distrusted the man. However, it was difficult to argue with his reasoning. The Death Eaters were not shy about using Unforgivables. And odds were fairly good that Harry was going to face it at some point. Would he rather wait and have someone cast it on him, surrendering complete control with no chance of fighting it? What’s the worst that could happen in the classroom with everyone watching? Begrudgingly he got in line, and after a moment’s hesitation, Blaise filed in behind him.

“Bastard’s got a point,” Harry said, keeping his voice low. Blaise sighed and nodded.

The rest of the class looked on as one by one the students did the most extraordinary things. Acrobatics, tap dancing, imitating all manner of animals. And then it was Harry’s turn.

“Imperio.” Moody has his wand pointed at Harry before he could even step forward.

Harry wasn’t sure what he had been expecting., but the feeling of calm that descended over him was not at all it. Everything seemed far away. Less important. Anything that might have worried him suddenly seemed far easier to deal with. He had no need to make any decisions. It was very nice. He wondered in a very offhanded way why on earth this was considered a curse, it was very nice.

Then, cutting through the fuzziness was Moody’s voice in his head. JUMP.

Harry bent his knees, preparing himself to jump as commanded when his own voice asked “Why though?” It was a fair point, but just as quickly he started to dismiss it. Why not? JUMP came the command again, more insistently. Harry frowned. He could jump, it wasn’t hard. He wanted to jump. And all the same, there was a voice in his head asking him why he would. He struggled, fighting with himself, as his body tried to push him into a jump while his brain waged war asking why he would do such a strange thing. 

In the end, he half jumped, some of his body still resisting the command. As he fell to the floor the pleasant haze over his mind lifted.

“Well done, Potter! Twenty points to Slytherin!” He clapped Harry on the back, nearly pushing him over again. “That’s what fighting it looks like! Gotta figure out how to throw it off completely.” The rest of the line forgotten, Moody continued to work with Harry for the rest of the class. He put him under Imperio again and again, issuing increasingly bizarre commands, until Harry was able to successfully throw him off. It was easier, Harry discovered, the more bizarre the request was. Easier for his brain to poke through the haze and ask why. Simple commands that held very little personal risk or discomfort were more difficult.

After class, with another fifty points for Slytherin, Harry started to wonder if that’s how the Death Eaters had done it. They didn’t Imperio people like his parents, or Lupin, anyone clearly on the other side. Not normally. Instead, they went after the people on the fence. People who wanted to stay out of it. Who thought if they looked they other way it would all be over soon. He paused, looking a window. That wasn’t fair of him. He couldn’t judge anyone for wishing they could just keep their head down and stay out of it. Anyone who didn’t have the war show up on their doorstep in a big way. People who hoped it would all pass by and leave them alone forever. Although, he had come to realize, that was much easier said than done. It always found a way in. At least for him. Going to school wasn’t supposed to be life threatening, and yet… 

His musings had separated him from Blaise, which was fine with him. He wanted some time to think. Draco had remarked earlier that he seemed more withdrawn this year, a bit more mopey. He supposed it was a fair assessment. He’d had a lot on his mind, after effects of the summer. With so little to eat, and absolutely nothing to do, there was nothing except to think. He’d fallen into the habit of quiet contemplation. It wasn’t giving up, although he spent a bit of time? wondering if it was. But, shouldn’t he be allowed to give up once and a while? He was barely fourteen years old. He’d had to fight for his life every single year for the past three years. It was no wonder the complete surrender of the Imperius curse was so appealing.

Harry realized with a start that his wandering had taken him down to the Potions classroom. The door was open and Snape was at the desk marking papers. He ducked his head in the door and saw there were no other students. 

He walked in and sat down in the chair opposite the Potions Master without a word. Snape looked at him, then flicked his wand, closing the door. A faint ward shimmered across it before fading into obscurity. Snape did not speak, he set his wand aside, steepled his fingers, and waited.

The silence was comforting, Harry realized. In all the chaos since the beginning of the year, he hadn’t realized how much the noise was getting to him. Everyone else around, the excitement of the Tournament. It was all… a little bit too much. Down here, in the dungeons, with the door warded and no possibility of being interrupted there was a sense of peace. Similar in some respects to the haze of the Imperius curse, without the complete surrender. He closed his eyes and let out a long, deep sigh.

“Was there something on your mind, Harry?” Snape asked softly.

“No, well and yes.” Harry answered with a half smile. “I had a lot on my mind and was sort of wandering. Thinking about… stuff. And then I was here, and I sat down to talk to you. But then it was all just quiet. And it struck me that more than needing to talk about it, I just wanted peace and quiet.”

Snape nodded. There were many reasons the former Death Eater turned spy kept to himself. Had a classroom and living quarters in the dungeons, far from the main beat of the school. “I know that your godfathers are in your life now. And,” he grimaced, “despite our differences when we were children they have your best interests at heart. I cannot speak for Sirius’ nature. His time in Azkaban… well.” He stopped himself short and shook his head. “Remus Lupin is a good man. And I know they both care for you deeply. And that Lucius cares for you as if you were his own son. However… should you ever need a refuge during the school year… that is something I can offer you. My door is open, Harry.”

“About that, sir…”

Snape arched a dark thin eyebrow, but waited for Harry to continue.

“I know that our lessons are done. The extra lessons I mean. I’m well ahead in Potions, and fairly proficient at dueling. It’s just…”

“You wish to continue?” The surprise behind the dark eyes was hidden, except to someone who knew him well. He leaned back in his chair, considering.

Harry nodded. “I do. I don’t… I don’t mean to impose on your time. I know you’re busy. It was just… it was something to count on. I don’t know.” He dropped his head, wiping his hands against his trousers. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking for, exactly. He enjoyed spending time with the man, and was loathe to give it up.

Snape considered him for a moment and then nodded. “Very well. I am not sure what we shall call them, but if you wish to resume lessons on Sundays after breakfast, I am agreeable.” He pursed his lips, thinking. “I shall… think of something.” 

Beaming, Harry felt a weight lift from his shoulders. “You don’t even have to teach me anything,” he put in, hurriedly. “You could just… let me come and do my homework. Or we could talk… if you wanted to talk. Something…”

The older man smiled and nodded his head. “I understand the impulse, and I am happy to oblige.”

“Thank you, sir.” Harry rose and pushed his hair out of his face. “I… really appreciate it.”

“Sunday then,” Snape said with a nod.

“Sunday,” Harry answered.

He felt silly, asking for Snape’s time. And yet, knowing that he had a place of refuge at least once a week… it felt, better. Over the course of the day people continued to add their name into the Goblet. A group of students stayed clustered around it at all times, watching and betting on who would be chosen as Champion. Harry tried to avoid it as much as possible. The uproar when Viktor Krum came to put his name in bothered him, he wasn’t sure why.

He hadn’t even noticed that the Bulgarian seeker was a part of the Durmstrang delegation. He and Draco had been so taken aback at Karkarov’s appearance they’d not been aware of anything else. 

“Of course he’ll be the Durmstrang champion,” Blaise said, spearing a potato with her fork and using it to punctuate her point. “I’d be surprised if anyone else from Durmstrang even bothered to put their names in.”

“That’s a strategy, isn’t it?” Pansy considered. “Don’t let anyone else from the school put their names in, then it HAS to pick the Champion you want.”

“I can’t see why they’d want anyone but Krum,” Blaise said, craning her neck to get a good look at him.

“And not just because he’s pretty to look at,” Pansy said with a smirk.

“There were a few from Beauxbatons that were pretty fit too. Did you see the one leading the column today? She’s gorgeous! Wonder if they’ll stick around, after the Champion has been chosen.”

Harry, who had only half been paying attention, looked around at the crowded Great Hall. It hadn’t occurred to him that the extra students would be staying on afterward. But then, what WOULD happen to them? Would they join in on the regular classes? Or have tutors from their school? Maybe the Champions would just return for the events. He didn’t fancy having all the extra people around for the rest of the year. But at least he had Sundays.

“Any of the Durmstrang or Beauxbatons you fancy, Harry?” Draco asked, seeing the smile on his friend’s face.

Harry shook his head, refusing to meet his eye.

“You can tell us,” he nudged his side with a grin, “we promise we won’t tell.”

“Probably Krum,” Pansy said with a smirk. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off him at the World Cup.”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “No, he’s too bulldog like.”

Draco barked out a laugh. “You like them leaner then?” 

Finally Dumbledore called for silence. The Goblet had been moved back to its original place at the front of the hall. “The moment you have all been waiting for!” The last of the chatter faded. “The choosing of the Champions! I think, the Goblet needs another minute or two. Now, when a Champion’s name is called, please come forward, past the staff table here, and to the next chamber where you will receive instructions.” With a wave of his hand, Dumbledore plunged the hall into darkness, except for the candles inside the pumpkins that floated along the ceiling, and the Goblet. It seemed as if the entire Hall was holding its breath, even the adults. Karkarov and Maxine looked particularly grim.

Then, with a spray of blue sparks, the Goblet spat out a charred piece of paper. Dumbledore plucked it deftly out of the air and held it open. He cleared his throat, “The Champion from Durmstrang…”

Harry looked over at the cluster of dark black and red cloaks. His eyes came to rest on Viktor Krum. He looked disinterested at best, as thought it was a duty to be here, one he did not particularly relish.

“Viktor Krum.”

As Harry was already looking at him, he managed to catch the briefest flash of annoyance on Krum’s face. For a second, he wondered if Krum felt like he did. It wasn’t his fault he was good at Quidditch. Harry would hazard a guess that the other boy had similarly hoped for a quiet year. Cheering someone else on, a sliver of normal life. But, Krum stood up anyway, lifting his fist in salute as his fellow students hollered and cheered.

The applause died down as Krum was escorted into the small room beside the Head Table. Not for the first time, Harry wondered just how sentient Hogwarts castle truly was. All those centuries of witches and wizards, of magic flowing through the corridor… He would not have been surprised to discover that the stone had taken on a life of its own.

At the front of the room the goblet spluttered and sparked, spitting out a second slip of parchment. Dumbledore unfurled it and cleared his throat. “The Champion from Beauxbatons will be… Fleur Delacour.”

Reaction at the Beauxbaton table was mixed. Several of the students cheered as the thin blond young woman who had led the procession yesterday made her way up to the front. But an almost equal number burst into tears. One brunette girl ran sobbing from the hall.

“Oh, they’re a bit disappointed, aren’t they?” Blaise remarked with a sniff.

“Just a wee bit,” Pansy agreed.

After Fleur had disappeared into the anteroom the hush that fell over the Hall was almost oppressive. The Hogwarts students shifted anxiously, perched on the edge of their seats as they waited to hear who their Champion would be.

A third slip of parchment floated from the Goblet.

“The Hogwarts Champion…” Dumbledore’s voice boomed over the silence. “Is Cedric Diggory.”

The Hufflepuff table exploded. Hats and goblets were thrown to the sky as a tall, sixth year boy stood up. He was practically shoved forward, his housemates enthusiastically celebrating. The other houses clapped politely, although Harry noticed that more than a few Slytherins abstained.

“A… Hufflepuff??” Blaise and Pansy said together, their faces stunned.

“That’s… that’s not right,” Draco agreed. “I mean…”

“Hufflepuff,” they repeated together.

Dumbledore gave the Hufflepuff table a few moments to celebrate after Cedric had been ushered into the anteroom before moving back to the podium and lifting his hands, calling for quiet. “Alright, alright. Congratulations Champions. They will be tested… beyond their wildest imaginations. And…”

His words were stopped short as the Goblet flared again, spitting out a fourth slip of parchment. Everyone watched, shocked, as it floated to the ground. Dumbledore swept off the podium and snatched it up. His thick grey eyebrows furrowed as he looked down. The crowd started to murmur, and several teachers leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of what was written on the paper.

“The Goblet, it seems, has chosen another Champion.” The Hall stilled to silence. “Harry Potter.”

Harry felt as though the words speared him through the gut. He doubled over with a gasp. All around him, the Slytherins whooped, shouting and cheering his name. Conversely, the Hufflepuffs were furious, angry shouts drowning the Slytherin celebration. The entire Great Hall was in chaos as Harry slid off the bench to his knees, wondering if he could crawl under the table and disappear.

“Harry Potter!” Dumbledore repeated, his voice cutting through the commotion. “Up here!”

He felt hands reaching for him, gently pulling him to his feet. “C’mon, Harry.” Draco’s voice, whispered in his ear, was sympathetic. “You gotta go, it’ll be worse if you don’t.” He swallowed back the bile and shakily made his way up to the front.

Dumbledore’s expression was unreadable as he looked down at him. “That way.” His voice was curt as he pointed Harry off into the side room.

He was shaking as he pushed open the door and entered the room with the other Champions.

Fleur looked at him curiously, her head tipped to the side. “Did they need something?” she asked, her French accent soft.

“I… I…” Harry stammered, struggling to find the words. Apparently they had not heard the commotion outside. He was saved answering by the appearance of Dumbledore behind him. The Headmaster grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him roughly around to face him. 

“Did you put your name into the Goblet?” He asked, a hint of anger in his voice.

Harry was stunned, “What… no! I don’t wa-”

“Did you ask an older student to do it for you?”

Harry was confused. He shook his head. “Of course not. I don’t wa-”

No one seemed at all concerned with actually listening to him. Moody cut him off.

“If I may. It’s not so simple a task as just putting his name in. The Goblet has been tampered with.” A collective gasp came from those assembled in the room. “A fourth school must have been added, ensuring Harry’s name would be the only one selected.”

Madam Maxine and Karkarov started shouting angrily at Dumbledore and Fudge, insisting that all names be resubmitted to the Goblet until a second Champion was chosen for their schools.

Fudge waved them off. “It doesn’t work like that! No, don’t start in again. The flames have gone out. They can’t be called back until the current tournament is complete.”

“Well, ‘e must not be allowed to compete!” Madam Maxine pressed, Karkarov agreed loudly.

“It doesn’t work like that either,” Dumbledore cut in. “As you are all aware, the Goblet represents a binding magical contract. He is oath-bound to compete, the same as the others. There is no escaping it. Harry Potter is, and must be, the fourth Triwizard Champion.”

Harry felt as though he was going to be sick. He stood, shakily, while the others argued around him. Despite Dumbledore’s pronouncement, there was still much bickering.

Karkarov flatly accused Moody of being the one to do it. “You seem to have it all figured out. And the other Champion is from YOUR school,” he spat.

Moody growled and moved toe to toe with the Death Eater. “If you’ll recall… it was once my job to figure out what Dark Wizards were up to, and how they might accomplish it.”

That sparked an entirely new round of arguments and fights. The noise and chaos swirled, everyone raising their voice to be heard over the others. Harry wrapped his arms around his stomach and shrank further and further away until he was pressed against the wall. In truth, it was the only thing holding him up. He had hoped beyond hope that they might have found him a way to get out of it. But if Dumbledore wasn’t willing to even entertain the notion there was no hope of convincing the others. 

Severus finally managed to extricate himself from the angry teachers at the staff table and make his way to the anteroom. They all demanded explanations he did not have. In truth, he had been convinced that Dumbledore would ignore the age-restriction and put Harry’s name in for consideration. When Cedric Diggory had been named Champion Severus allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. He should have known it was premature. But still, he did not anticipate this. He should have.

He watched as Harry grew more and more pale across the room from him. Of course Dumbledore would not hear any arguments about releasing the boy from the contract. He would want him to compete. Another pillar under the pedestal of the Boy Who Lived, holding him up as the Savior of the Wizarding World. Severus was not at all convinced that it hadn’t been Dumbledore who confounded the Goblet. 

Fed up and disgusted, Severus forced his way across the room to Harry’s side. He put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and pulled the boy close to him. “We’re leaving.”

The others tried to stop him, but Severus snarled and shook them off. He was sure Dumbledore would have words for him, but not in front of the others. It wouldn’t matter. They left through another door, mercifully not through the Great Hall, and he could feel Harry’s tension fade when they emerged into the quiet stone hall instead of the throng of students.

“Quickly now. If we do not dawdle we should beat everyone back to the dungeons.” Harry didn’t reply, but quickened his pace to keep up with Severus’ long strides.

When they arrived back in the Common Room it was empty, but Severus led them into the dormitory and locked the door. Gently, Severus turned Harry to face him, and felt the anxiety roll off him in waves. “Harry,” he said quietly, “I am not going to ask if you put your name in.” Harry slumped in relief. “Anyone who knows you knows this is not at all what you would want. But I am sorry. I do not know how to get you out of it.”

Harry nodded slowly. “I know professor. There isn’t anything. I’m caught in the web, again. I should have suspected…”

His words stabbed at Severus. The resignation in someone so young cut straight to his heart. Could the boy not have one year of peace? But then, Severus studied the young man in front of him. He wasn’t really a boy anymore. The years had been difficult. Harry displayed a wisdom and fortitude unmatched by adults Severus had met that were two, even three or four times Harry’s age. He shook himself free of his thoughts.

“You will not be doing this alone,” Severus insisted, holding Harry’s gaze. “Rules be damned. I don’t give a fig about that. I will help you in whatever way I am able. We do not yet know what the first task will be, but I assure you, I will see you through to the other side of this.”

Harry looked weary, but he nodded. “Thank you, Professor.”


	10. The One Where Harry's Friends Aren't Assholes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here! A new chapter... yay!
> 
> To those that caught it in the comments (or emailed me asking about updates) I apologize it's taken so very long to update. Someone close to me fell ill suddenly, and passed away without a whole lot of warning. It kinda socked me in the gut and took the wind out of my sails. Even finding the mojo to post up a new chapter was... not a thing that was happening.
> 
> As promised, this book IS finished, and it WILL be published. It just may not always happen regularly. But I do really love all the comments and people asking (nicely) for updates. It helps nudge me out of my turtle mode when life is life.

When Snape left, Draco slipped in, closing the door behind him. “I asked the others to wait, give you a bit of room.”

Harry’s heart swelled with appreciation for his friend and he wrapped his arms around him. The hug was quickly returned. After a moment the two parted and sat down on Harry’s bed.

“I know you didn’t do it,” Draco said, answering the unspoken question. “There’s no way. I know how much you didn’t want to compete. And I figure that if you’d found a way, you would have told me.”

Harry sighed with relief. “The rest of the house isn’t going to think like that though.”

Draco shrugged, “Maybe. There’s always going to be a few jealous prats. But I think, if I am any expert at all on Slytherin thinking - and,” he grinned impishly “- as a Malfoy I believe I can claim that. Mostly, they’re just going to be impressed. You’ll have a few on you, asking you how you managed it. But we’re all just really glad that a Hufflepuff isn’t the only one representing the school. Could you imagine, us, cheering for a badger??”

Harry laughed, feeling much lighter. With Snape’s support, and now Draco… He had worried what the reception among his friends would be. Whether any would be give him the cold shoulder, out of jealousy or anger. Draco’s words had put him at ease. He could not control what the rest of the school thought, but at least his friends would not abandon him.

“Any idea what the first task is going to be?”

“No, maybe they were going to give the Champions a hint or something, but when I came in everything kind of when to shit.”

“Bet Maxine and Karkarov weren’t too pleased about a second Hogwarts Champion.”

“You could say that.” Harry relayed what had transpired in the side room before Snape whisked him away.

They talked until late. Nott came in, nodding at Harry, and went to bed without saying a word. Harry was grateful. By the time he fell asleep he let himself relax slightly. It would be alright. He didn’t care one whit about winning, he just had to survive the tasks. How hard could that be?

All of the nerves had returned the next morning as he prepared to go down to breakfast. He gave serious consideration to skipping it, but his stomach growled loudly in protest, informing him that it was not an option. So, flanked by Draco, Pansy and Blaise, he made his way out of the Slytherin dungeons and towards the Great Hall.

He held his breath as they stepped through the doors and sat down at their table. No one said much of anything to him. He could see Weasley once again holding court at the Gryffindor table, and the Hufflepuffs shot him several dirty looks. That, he reckoned, he could deal with. It was not as though the Slytherins had ever gotten on particularly well with the badgers, no big loss there. Keeping his head down, he ate his breakfast without looking at anyone.

As a result, it wasn’t until his first class that he noticed the buttons. Most Gryffindors, and nearly all the Hufflepuffs were sporting round buttons on their cloaks. He peered at them, trying to make out what they said. He instantly regretted it.

“Like them, do you Potter?” Weasley sneered when he caught Harry looking. “Here, take one.” He flung a small metal disc at Harry who caught it easily.

SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY - THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION the button proclaimed loudly.

There’s more,” Weasley said and flung another button. POTTER STINKS it read.

Harry bit his lip, trying to keep his temper in check. “Clever,” he managed through gritted teeth.

“Wish we were as clever as you,” Weasley drawled, perched on his desk while they waited for Transfiguration to start. “Sneaking your name into the goblet. Just had to have all the glory for yourself. I mean, we all knew you were a desperate attention seeker. But really… this takes the cake.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond but Snape stepped into the classroom. Ron scrambled into his seat, trying to hide the badges.

Severus plucked the badges off Harry’s desk. “Who is responsible for this?” he growled.

Harry had never seen Ron Weasley try and shrink so small. Not an easy feat given his height. The Slytherins glared at him, and several of the Gryffindors shifted nervously in their seats. But it was Hermione who pointed to Ron. Snape nodded at her.

“Thank you, Miss Granger.” He stalked across the classroom until he was towering over Weasley. “In my office, when you have finished your classes today. And for every day until I see fit. One hundred points from Gryffindor, for the disrespect.” He paused, and looked back at Hermione. “You will understand, Miss Granger, if I do not award you points for your courage?” She nodded.

“I expect, by the time you arrive in my classroom at the end of the day, you will have recovered every single badge. Twenty-five points will be deducted for each badge I see throughout the day. Now, Mr. Potter, if you will please accompany me, you have been excused from this class. Professor McGonagall has already been informed.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said as they stepped out into the hall.

“I do not imagine it will be the last dig Weasley tries to get in.”

“No, I don’t either. Sir, what’s this about?”

“Champion business,” he sighed as they approached the Headmaster’s office. “Each wand needs to be weighed and examined before the tournament begins.”

Snape gave the password, “Lemon drops.” And the gargoyles sprang to life, moving out of the way and revealing a stone staircase. “Up here, if you please.” Harry most certainly did not please, but he climbed the stairs anyways.

The other Champions were already waiting. Cedric with Madam Sprout, Fleur with Madam Maxine, and Krum looking sullen next to an anxious Karkarov. The latter made to move over towards Snape when they’d appeared at the top of the stairs, but Snape shook him off with an angry glare and the man stepped back.

Dumbledore was not yet in attendance, so when the door opened Harry expected to see the tall Headmaster. Instead, it was a witch. Her long poison-green nails were clutching a clipboard, and a vivid purple quill floated in the air behind her. “Aaahhhh… our Champions!” she purred in falsely cultured tones. Behind her came a wizard carrying a large camera. “Just there, just there,” she pointed to a corner of the office and he began to set up.

“I am Rita Skeeter - Star reporter for the Daily Prophet. But of course, you all know me.” She tittered, looking around at them as if she expected them to say something, but they merely looked at her apprehensively. “The real question is,” she continued with a vicious smile, “who are you? What lies beneath that pretty face.” She stepped in front of Fleur and drew a nail along her chin. “What softness hides behind those muscles.” Her finger trailed along Krum’s arm as she purred up at him. “Me, myself and I want to know!”

The camera set up, she stepped back and started directing them into a group at one end of the room. Krum kept trying to move into the back, and Harry found himself standing behind Cedric, which was perfect for him. But Rita stopped, pulling him out and pushing him into the center of the group. Fleur looked at him with a scowl as he tried again to wiggle into the back row.

Finally, with everything arranged to her satisfaction, Rita stepped back and gestured for the camera wizard to begin.

Harry at least found the process somewhat interesting. He was sure he’d been in several magical photos, but this was the first time he’d been able to watch the process. He let himself ignore what what happening around him in favor of feeling out the magic. The camera wrapped around each of them, capturing not only their image but a bit of the essence too. Harry wondered if they would be learning the spells behind it in any of their classes.

Then, the photo was finished. Dumbledore was still absent. Rita looked around, adjusting her cat eye glasses, until her gaze fell on Harry. “Ahh, interviews!” She said as though the idea had just occurred to her. She stepped forward, the quill following behind. “You wouldn’t mind, would you Harry?” He stammered, not sure how to answer. Snape was deep in conversation with Karakarov at the other side of the room. The man finally having cornered him. He couldn’t see a way out as she pulled him into a side room.

“Cozy!” she said with a grin.

Harry frowned, it looked like a broom closet. He crossed his arms, waiting for her to continue.

“Well, well. You don’t mind if I use a Quick Quotes Quill? Right, let’s begin-”

“What is a Quick Quotes Quill,” he interrupted.

“Just lets us talk, Harry dear. Nothing to worry about. Makes the whole process more organic… more real.”

The quill was already scratching away, and Harry tried unsuccessfully to make out what it said in the dim light.

“Now, here you sit, a mere boy of twelve.”

“I’m fourteen, actually,” he tried to interject but she went on as though he hadn’t spoken.

“- Already having faced so much.” Rita sighed dramatically. “Up against witches and wizards with so much more talent and training than you. In a competition that will most assuredly claim your life. What,” she tipped her head to the side, “would your parents say if they knew you had such a reckless disregard for the life they sacrificed to give you. So willing to throw it all away.”

Harry sputtered indignantly, “I don’t think…’ his eyes fell on the paper and he managed to read a bit. “Hey! My eyes are not ‘welling up with the ghosts of my past’! Stop that!”

Rita grinned at him, wide and toothy. But she did not get a chance to ask anything else. The door flew open and Severus stood in the gap. The light from the office sending his shadow across the room and making it appear for a moment as though he were merely a large, imposing, silhouette. 

“I don’t think so, Ms Skeeter,” he cut in. “Harry will NOT be giving interviews.”

She stood up smoothly and dusted her robes, smiling up at him. “Oh, but he already has.” Snape attempted to snatch the parchment out of the air, but it rolled itself up and slipped into Rita’s bag.

“Now, now, Severus,” came Dumbledore’s voice. They stopped out of the small closet and the Headmaster was waiting outside, looking ambivalent. “There’s no harm in talking. I’m sure the wizarding world is very interested in getting to know all of the Champions. Allowances can be made for the Daily Prophet.”

Harry scowled, with the small sample he had seen he dreaded reading the rest.

The rest of the ceremony went rather smoothly. Dumbledore had brought Ollivander to test each wand thoroughly. He started with Fleur, weighing the wand carefully. He also took notes as to the wood, magical core, and previous users - if there were any. Harry was surprised to consider that some wands might have been passed down through generations. It made him wonder what had happened to his parents’ wands.

When it came time to weigh his wand, Harry handed it over apprehensively. He realized, suddenly, that he had never shared with anyone the story behind the magical core of his wand. He had been shocked to discover, when the wand had picked him, that the core was a twin to Voldemort’s wand. He was certain that was not a fact that he wanted shared with the rest of the magical community. 

“Ahhh, yes. I remember this one.” Ollivander said, running his fingers along the wand. “Still in good working order?” he asked.

Harry nodded. He’d always been pleased with his wand, despite the core.

“Of course, of course.” Ollivander continued to inspect it. “An excellent wand, interesting story. Hmmm.” He placed it on the scales, making note of the weight, and plucked it up again. “Phoenix feather core…”

Harry held his breath. If Ollivander told the story of his wand now he was sure it would be all over the front page of the Daily Prophet by dinner. That was, if Rita didn’t burst of excitement first.

The examination of his wand took twice as long as the others. But other than a few unintelligible remarks under his breath, Ollivander said nothing. He handed the wand back to Harry, pronouncing it in excellent working condition.

When the ceremony was over Harry practically ran out of the room, desperate not to be cornered by that horrible woman and her quill again. He wished he could disappear. The whispers that followed him through the halls were worse than second year when it had been widely believed that he was the heir of Slytherin. He supposed at least a few students had felt as though he was not to be blamed for who his family was. After all, one hardly has a choice of lineage. But this… this was assumed to be entirely of his own doing. A mad grasp at further fame.

Harry kept his head down, trying to concentrate on his classes. Although not openly hostile, it was clear that a few of the teachers did not believe him innocent in the matter. McGonagall, who had never been outright friendly, was more cold than he remembered. He’d always liked the woman, and respected her greatly. She was, for the most part, strictly fair in a way that his own head of house was decidedly not. She was not against punishing her own house with the same severity as the others.

The Friday before the first task Harry woke to find Hedwig asleep on the covers beside him. She hooted when he stirred and held out her leg. A note was tied there and he quickly freed it.

“Sorry, girl,” he said, stroking her soft feathers. “I don’t have any treats to give you.” She eyed him reproachfully and he hurried to add. “Come see me during breakfast and I’ll share, okay?”

Hedwig hooted her approval and hopped off his bed, rising to one of the owl ports near the ceiling with a quiet flutter. He felt guilty. He had not spent much time with her lately, and hadn’t written a letter in quite some time. He resolved to write to Sirius and Remus this weekend, he should probably tell them about the Tournament before they read about it in the Prophet… if they hadn’t already.

The note was written in Snape’s spidery hand, short and to the point, so like the man. “Harry, meet me tonight at 11 o’clock in the classroom. Bring your cloak.”

Harry frowned. Odd. A meeting at night, with his cloak? For a moment Harry let himself hope that perhaps Snape was taking him off the grounds… to Spindleshaft Lane perhaps? Following directly on the heels of that thought was another, less pleasant. Was it a trap? It wasn’t explicitly stated, but Harry gathered this was not information he was at liberty to share. Why else would it have been sent with Hedwig in the morning, rather than waiting til breakfast, if not to give Harry a chance to conceal the letter. As if to answer his question, the moment his eyes left the paper it burst into heat-less flames in his hand and crumbled to ash. Definitely not something to be shared. And definitely strange.

The fact that Hedwig had brought it made it less likely that it was some sort of deception. She was intelligent, and had been sleeping in the Owlery at school. That meant whoever had sent it needed to have access. Of course, it could be the same person that had put his name into the Goblet. If it was I fact Snape who had sent the letter and taken pains to conceal it, he imagined the professor would not be pleased if Harry marched up to him and asked if he meant it. It would be difficult to verify the letter without being obvious, but Harry pulled on his trainers determined to at least try.

It was early. Earlier than he usually made it down for breakfast. He supposed Hedwig’s presence had roused him from his sleep, and with so much on his mind he hadn’t even considered going back to sleep. The Great Hall was not as empty as he suspected it would be. Although the addition of students from other schools, it appeared the entire delegations from both schools were staying on, it wasn’t surprising that things were perhaps a little different.

He took a seat at the Slytherin table and looked up towards the staff table. Of the teachers, only Professors Sprout and Flitwick were there, discussing something with their heads close together. He tried to tell himself it was just his imagination that their gazes occasionally drifted to him.

Harry picked at his food, not feeling overly hungry but needing a reason to sit at the table until Professor Snape made an appearance. He supposed he could just go to the man’s office to ask. But if that was an option, why go through the trouble to send a note in the morning? It worried him. Hedwig arrived and he fed her some of his bacon, talking to her quietly as she preened on his arm. When she had her fill she nipped him affectionately and flew off.

He continued to push food around his plate until movement at the Head Table caught his eye. Snape was taking his seat at the far end, oblivious to Harry’s attempts to catch his eye.

Finally the professor looked up from his tea and found Harry looking at him. Harry arched his eyebrows, hoping to convey all of his questions with a single glance. Snape looked at him, his expression unreadable, but after a moment, gave him the barest nod. That would have to be enough. Harry imagined that had Snape not sent the note the man would have been quite confused.

With that settled for now, Harry went back to the dungeons to fetch his bookbag and headed to class. Afterward he hid in the library. Deep in the stacks on the second floor far from curious students and working on homework. When he had finished, he wrote a letter to his godfathers, apologizing for not keeping them in the loop. He also wrote to Lucius, unsure whether Draco had already informed his father. As he rolled them up to send he felt a twinge of guilt that he had not sent them sooner. He was sure Lucius at least had seen the Prophet - if Snape had not told him first - and already knew, but he really deserved to have heard the news from Harry first. His conscious was soothed somewhat with the sad realization that it had only been in recent years that he had anyone he could count on. He pushed the feelings aside. He had people now, and they would not hold it against him.


	11. Snape Makes a Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays darlings! Whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, Yule, Kwanzaa, or any other holiday (there are so many!) or don't celebrate at all... I hope you're happy, cozy and safe <3 And here's a cute little chapter with Snape and Harry :D
> 
> Thank you all for the kind comments on the last chapter. It's been a rough few months but we persist!

Finally, the day was over. After making sure no one was watching, Harry ducked down and pulled the Invisibility Cloak from his bag. He ducked underneath it, shoved his bag into a corner, he would fetch it later. He walked slowly, muffling his footsteps in case Mr Filch or Mrs Norris were about. He made it to Snape’s office without incident and paused. Was he supposed to knock? He lingered at the door, trying to make up his mind. Before he had reached a conclusion the door swung open and Snape peered out into the hall.

“Harry, step inside,” his voice was low.

Harry brushed past the man to let him know he was there. When he got inside he let the hood fall from his face.

“Your discretion is appreciated, take a seat.” He gestured towards his office. Harry shucked out of the cloak and made his way towards the familiar room.

Snape fixed them both a cup of tea and sat down opposite Harry in front of the fire, all without speaking. He crossed his legs, balancing the cup on his knee. Harry knew the man wished to say something, but had no idea what.

Finally, Snape spoke. “Muggles have a saying ‘Life is not fair’.” At that Harry snorted. He did not need a Muggle cliché to tell him that life was the opposite of fair and Snape’s rueful smile was sympathetic. “I do not need to tout the merits of that particular expression to you, I am aware. However, although it would not be said of me that I am a particularly fair man… I have always, within myself, believed in the inherent benefits of an even playing field. At least, that is to say, as even as we are able to make it. It a person decides, through their own free will, to avoid such things as would make a situation equitable, then how can another deny them that right? However…” 

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, breathing deeply. “Forgive me, I am rambling. I should have ordered all of this in my mind before you arrived. Perhaps it is even that you do not require an explanation. My own vanity has put me in the position of wishing that you understand why it is that I make the choices that I do.”

“It’s alright, Professor,” Harry said - although he hadn’t the foggiest what the man we getting at.

“I will speak plainly. You have been entered into this tournament against your will, and forced to compete against students with several years more training than you. It is expressly against the rules that the Champions know the details of the first task, and even more prohibited for the teachers to interfere. And so I find myself in the position of desiring to go against the rules in order to pursue a higher level of fairness.”

“You want to make it fair, by cheating.”

“Apt, if somewhat crude. Although cheating and bribery have been a part of the Triwizard Tournament since its inception. Their inclusion is a foregone conclusion. Still, it is not something I had ever dreamed I would consider. But, protecting you is far more important. Come, there is something that you should see. You will need your cloak.”

In his wildest dreams Harry had not considered that Snape would take him from the castle in the middle of the night to look at dragons. Four, fire-breathing, mythical beasts. He could see wizards and witches darting around the enclosures, casting spells and trying to calm the creatures. He was speechless.

Somehow he found himself back inside Snape’s office, clutching another cup of tea. Had it all been a dream? A horrible nightmare?

“Forgive me,” Snape was saying. “I did not think it was something that could be easily explained, and so I opted to show you.”

“The first task… is… dragons?”

“Each one is a mother, protecting a clutch of eggs. I believe the Champions will need to retrieve one of the eggs in order to proceed to the next task. There is a calming draught in the tea.”

Harry nodded wordlessly and took a long sip. It tasted different, but not unpleasant. The potion went to work almost immediately. A warm feeling spread to his fingers and toes before settling in beside the knot in his stomach. “Thank you,” he managed weakly.

Snape nodded, hesitating just a moment before adding some of the draught to his own tea. A half dose, to take the edge off.

“Sir, this tournament. Whoever put my name in the goblet… they didn’t do it so I’d get more famous, did they.”

“It is possible, but I do believe it is far more likely they are trying to kill you.”

Even distressed as he was, Harry appreciated the honesty. He realized, with no small measure of disgust, that no one was asking why someone would try and kill him. The idea of someone with designs on his life was not only not a foreign concept, but something he had almost come to expect. He did wonder, who, specifically. And at the method. “Surely there are easier ways.”

“Death Eaters are a dramatic lot. The straightforward approach will always be a last resort. There are still many among their numbers who blame you for the fall of the Dark Lord. And it has been widely rumored that your death will somehow free him to return to power.”

“So they’d sacrifice me to bring him back.” It wasn’t a question, and Snape knew it.

“I am sorry Harry. I wish that I could give you more peace of mind than this. But know that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

From his tone, Harry knew Snape viewed that as inadequate, but in his mind there was no greater promise. He could not find the words to express his gratitude, and hoped the man understood. They sat in silence. Harry was thankful he was not being sent back to the dorms.

“Can I tell my friends?” Harry was staring into the fire, now reduced to smoldering embers.

Before Snape answered he reached forward and placed another log into the hearth. “It would not be my preference that my involvement was widely known. Although I am certain there are many who will suspect. The other Champions will have been told. The younger Mr Weasley informed Mr Diggory - Charlie escorted the dragons here from Romania. And I saw both Karkarov and Maxine lurking around the pens this evening. They will undoubtedly be giving their Champions every advantage. It does you credit, that you would be willing to go it alone. But I think if you are to succeed you will need the support of your friends. Isolation is a tool of the Dark Lord, one I will not employ.” He paused, sighing deeply as a weight seemed to settle on his shoulders. “I despise myself that I would consider asking you to lie on my account. Omit, sidestep, conceal - these are different. But, I would not have your friends know that I helped you.”

The words were painfully wrought. Their implication, his suggestion, the weight of it thick between them.

“If I tell them… that I can’t tell where I found out, or who told me… I think they’d be okay with that.”

Snape’s laugh was twisted, self-deriding as he shook his head. “And what does it say of me that it did not even occur to me that your friends would respect you in this way.”

It did not seem like a statement that needed a response, and yet Harry felt the need to say something, anything. He had the smallest sense of what the man had endured. What Snape had gone through as a spy during the war. What price the Dark Lord would make him pay were he to be discovered. “It’s just different,” he said finally.

It wasn’t enough. There would never be enough. But Snape nodded and let it remain. It was not a subject either of them wished to delve into. Harry sat in the chair, watching the flames until he fell asleep. When he woke the next morning there was a blanket pulled over him and a tray of eggs, bacon, and toast that had been charmed to keep warm.


	12. Harry Makes a Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gasp, two chapters two days in a row?! I thought about waiting a week but you all have been so patient, so decided to post again today.
> 
> Finally we are at the first task! It goes a little differently than the book, we are canon-divergent afterall! But I hope you all like what I've done with it :D

His friends consoled him as best they were able. There wasn’t a whole lot to be said when you found out that your mate was going toe to toe with a dragon because some evil bastard wanted them dead and was too shite to do it themselves. And so they hugged him, and promised to do whatever they could to help. As it happened, Harry hadn’t had to conceal Snape’s involvement at all. Charlie had told Fred and George, who had proceeded to tell the rest of the new Marauders. They sought him out immediately to tell him.

“Any ideas?” Draco asked.

Everyone looked at Harry. 

“Yeah,” he said. “A bit of one. I can’t run. Well I guess I could run away, but I’m not going to. But I can fly, and I’m allowed my wand. Can I transfigure it into a broomstick maybe? Give me a sliver of a chance against it at least.”

George grinned, “You can’t transfigure it. I mean, maybe you can but I’m guessing that’s bloody complicated. But what you can do, is use the wand to get the broom.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” Pansy asked.

“Not sure I’m that picky on what’s legal when the alternative is BBQ-me,” Harry said. Pansy tried to smile, but Harry saw the tears in her eyes. She turned away and Hermione put an arm around her.

“It’s a pretty simple spell,” George continued. “And you have the power to make it work. Just have to put your broom somewhere it can get to you.”

“But maybe not so obvious that they know he knew what was coming,” Draco added.

“Well, obviously.”

Fred and George demonstrated the spell by summoning pillows from the chairs. It was a simple charm “Accio” and Harry knew in any other circumstances he wouldn’t have any trouble with it. He wasn’t brilliant, not like Pansy or Hermione, but he wasn’t an idiot either. It was simply nerves. Nerves that had him jumpy and worked up, and prevented him from the focus that was needed for the spell. That’s what he told himself as he continued to fail. They practiced until midnight with Harry barely managing to get a pillow to wiggle.

“Look, I need to sleep. It’s just nerves, that’s all this is.” He tried to sound more confident than he felt. From the looks on his friends’ faces he was fairly certain he hadn’t succeeded. But he smiled at them and headed back to the Slytherin Common Room anyways. Pansy and Draco stayed behind.

Nott was already snoring when he slipped back into the room. He sank into his bed, neglecting to change out of his clothes and opting instead to just pull the covers over him. The first task was tomorrow afternoon and he had no idea how he was going to manage it.

The day dawned clear, which Harry determinedly decided was a good sign. He understood the basics of the spell, and even though he hadn’t managed to summon so much as a pillow, it was going to have to be good enough. He unlocked his trunk and pulled his Firebolt out, setting it on the bed with curtains drawn. If anyone asked him about why his broomstick was out - and implying that he somehow knew what was coming - he had agreed with Draco to tell a story about how they’d been practicing that weekend and must have forgotten to put it away.

When he stepped into the common room the students were all waiting and they burst into cheers. He made his way through the crowd with people patting his back and telling him how they were certain he could manage. He broke free of the well-wishers in the hallway and slumped against the cool stone walls of the dungeon. Their encouragement had the exact opposite effect. His confidence had vanished - he was going to let them down. Instead of the Great Hall, he found his feet carrying him through the dungeon towards Snape’s classroom. After all, the professor had not said that their Sunday morning meeting was canceled. He would much rather spend it in silence than surrounded by more well wishers.

Snape said nothing as he opened the door, only stepped aside to let Harry in. 

Harry sank into one of the chairs and closed his eyes. He basked in the silence. Far too quickly it was time to attend the first task. Harry mutely followed Snape through the castle, grateful for the Potion Master’s scowl that ensured they were left alone.

Tents had been erected on the Quidditch pitch where the Champions would await their turn with the dragons. The area was mercifully free of students. 

Several yards from the largest tent, Harry stopped. “Professor?” his voice was quiet and shook slightly. He opened his eyes and met Snape’s gaze. “I don’t know if this is something you can promise me, or if it’s even allowed, or how any of this works.”

Snape held his breath and waited patiently for Harry to finish.

“Sir, can you promise, no matter what happens today… Please, don’t let it kill me.”

Snape’s stomach clenched and he tasted bile in the back of his mouth. That was not something anyone Harry’s age should have to ask. It wasn’t something anyone should have to ask, ever. To know there was a very real chance they were walking into something, against their will, that could end their life. He had done it enough times himself and was intimately familiar with the feeling. He put his hands on Harry’s shoulders and pulled the young man against his chest, wrapping his arms around him. He buried his face in Harry’s dark hair. “Harry,” his throat was thick and he cleared his throat. “Harry, I made a promise that I was going to protect you, and that includes this blasted tournament. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. Do you understand?”

Tears dampened the front of Snape’s robes, but he held Harry and let him cry. Eventually, Harry nodded.

“Thank you,” he croaked.

Squeezing him one last time, Snape repeated, “I will protect you,” and released him.

Some of the color had returned to Harry’s face, and despite the tears his eyes were not red. He sniffed once and nodded. “I’m ready.” The truth was, he would never be ready, but he was unlikely to feel any better about it.

Fudge was waiting just inside the door of the tent, bustling about in a bright robe and bowler hat. “Ahh! Harry, there you are! That’s everyone. We’re just about to get started. Champions only,” he said to Snape, pushing him out of the tent.

Harry looked around at the other Champions. Cedric looked uneasy, his eyes were closed and he was whispering to himself. Krum stood stoically in the corner. Fleur was pacing at the far end of the tent, wringing her hands. He wasn’t sure where to stand, so he moved next to Krum and tried to clear his mind of anything but the Accio charm.

Waiting was agony, knowing what was to come and being powerless to do anything. One by one they drew a miniature dragon from bag in the order that their names had come from the Goblet. From the looks on the other Champion’s faces - grim determination as opposed to shock and surprise - they had been told what the challenge was. 

Harry had to wait through the other three, listening to the shouts and shrieks of the crowd and the mediwizards shouting back and forth. When Cedric had his turn, the screams were so loud Harry was certain the Hufflepuff had died. The Champions did not return to this tent when their task was complete, leaving Harry alone to wait and worry.

He was tempted to practice the charm, to prove to himself that he could do it. But he knew that if he tried, and failed, that would be it. There would be no question of performing it correctly when it counted.

The screams were deafening when Harry was ushered from the tent onto the pitch. He blinked, the sun was almost blinding. There, in the middle of the pitch, was the Hungarian Horntail. She stamped her feet, long tail swinging viciously as she anxiously circled on top of her clutch, eying the crowd. Quickly, he cast about for a rock to hide behind.

With his back against it he closed his eyes, willing the sounds of the crowd to fade away. He took out his wand and breathed in deeply. “Accio, Firebolt!” A hush fell over the stadium as they collectively held their breath to see if the charm worked. Harry waited, and waited… 

He slumped against the rock and fought the urge to cry. The charm hadn’t worked. It hadn’t worked, and he was going to die.

Behind him the dragon roared angrily. He looked over his shoulder and spotted the golden egg nestled into the clutch. At least they weren’t actually stealing real dragon eggs. She circled them tightly, trying to protect them Harry realized with a pang. She had not asked for this. To be ripped from her habitat and brought here for entertainment. Put in front of a crowd and ordered to perform. He felt as though he might be sick, not from fear, but revulsion. This tournament was disgusting. Pitting students against each other, throwing them into life-threatening situations for… fun? Maybe the other three Champions had signed up for this, but he and the Horntail had not.

Suddenly, Harry realized that he did not want to steal the egg. He wondered what would happen if he deliberately failed. Something horrible, probably. Otherwise surely Snape would have suggested it. 

Carefully looking over his shoulder Harry studied the dragon. “I’m sorry,” he said. She paused for a fraction of a second, and then ceased her tight circles to look at him. “Can you understand me?” he asked. This time he heard the slight hissing of his voice, he was speaking Parseltongue. The dragon continued to eye him warily. She stamped her foot and blew out a huff of smoke, but she did not seem aggressive.

Harry made a decision. Taking a deep breath, and hoping it wasn’t the last decision of his life, he stood up and turned to face the Hungarian Horntail. Around the edges of his mind he was aware that the crowd went completely mad, but he kept his attention focused on the dragon. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said louder, hoping the expression on his face helped convey his meaning. “Please believe me,” he pleaded, hands held palm up. “Do you, can you understand?”

She weaved her head a little, moving towards him slightly. Harry closed his eyes and tensed, this was it then. This was how the Boy Who Lived was going to die. Instead, he heard a deep rumbling voice. “YES.”

Harry eyes flew open and he gaped at the large green face, seeing the intelligence in her eyes. “I am so sorry. I didn’t want this. I didn’t ask for any of this. And I know you didn’t either.”

She huffed again, but didn’t move as he stepped out from behind the rock, leaving his wand behind as a sign of his intentions.

“WHAT” she asked, the voice rumbling through him.

“What, oh… what I want.” Harry pointed to the nest and she stiffened so he hurried to explain. “There’s an egg, the golden one. It’s not one of yours, is it?”

She stomped her foot and looked down at her clutch. “NO.”

“It’s…” Harry paused, trying to think of how to explain the tournament to the dragon. She clearly understood him, at least a little, but her responses left him uncertain just how much. “They want me to get it.”

The dragon turned to the crowd and roared, a lick of flame coming from her mouth, but it extinguished on whatever wards were set up to protect the stands.

“It’s not alive!” Harry said. “Not a real egg. Not a dragon. A prize.”

Her head turned back to him and she lowered her neck to peer straight at him. “TRUTH?”

“Truth,” Harry repeated.

The Horntail turned a tight circle around the nest, staring down the crowd which was silent, spellbound as they watched her and Harry. She ducked her head to look at the eggs, then clawed the golden egg so it rolled out of the nest. Picking it up, she held it in one powerful talon. “FREE,” she said.

Harry frowned, “You want me, to… to let you go?”

“FREE.”

He tried not to let his face fall. “I’m sorry.” He found himself fighting back tears. He knew what it felt like to be trapped. To feel that you were trapped in a cage, being poked and prodded. He wouldn’t wish it on anyone. And just like him, this beautiful creature had no choice. “I’m trapped too.” He wiped away the tears. “No, this is bollocks, I’m stuck here, but you don’t have to be. Hang on!” Harry darted back behind the rock and snatched up his wand. He hoped she understood him enough to know he wasn’t going to attack her.

She waited, watching him, the egg still in her claws. There was a thick chain attached to a spike that was driven into the ground. Harry lifted his wand. “Trust me,” he said, she dipped her head in acknowledgment. “REDUCTO!” Harry shouted, aiming at the thick links. Miraculously, it worked. The chain shattered. He held his breath, would she fly away? Get past the wards and attack the crowd? He hadn’t entirely thought this through.

The dragon held out the golden egg to him. “TRUST.” 

Harry didn’t hesitate. He ran forward and took the egg from her, cradling it closely. She lowered her head, touching her giant forehead to his. “Thank you,” Harry said.

“HONOR,” she said. She backed up and picked up the nest in her front claws. Cradling it to her chest she roared triumphantly and lifted off the ground with one powerful beat of her wings.

As she disappeared into the sky the trainers rushed in, cursing him loudly. Harry turned, ready to defend himself, the golden egg clutched against his chest. But a tall redhead stepped in between them, wand raised menacingly, and the trainers backed off.

“That was something to see, Harry,” Charlie Weasley said with a smile over his shoulder. “You spoke with it, didn’t you? That wasn’t a spell or something you could teach me?” There was a hint of wistful hope in his voice.

“It just happened,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I didn’t plan to. Only I was feeling sad for her. Being brought here, put on display. She didn’t seem like she wanted to be here and…”

Charlie gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze, “And you understood how she felt?” Harry nodded and Charlie gave him a sympathetic smile. “I didn’t want to bring them, but it wasn’t up to me in the end. I thought it would be better at least if I came along and made sure nothing happened to them.”

“I understand.”

Looking over at the trainers who seemed torn between staying and protecting the remaining dragons and going in search of the Horntail, Charlie laughed. “You know, if it had been anyone else, or done in any other way… they’d probably be screaming for your head. But they’re so in awe of you and just watched it happen…”

Harry opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by Fudge bustling over.

“Now that was something!” The minister burst out. “Should have expected that the boy who lived would give us all a show.”

Harry looked at him suspiciously. Could his place in the tournament simply be a stunt by the Minister for Magic? The thought hadn’t occurred to him until now, but the way Fudge was going on, he began to wonder. A way to raise his profile, keep shaping him into the soldier and savior they supposed him to be. He didn’t know the man well, but something about him suggested he would do whatever it took.

“Do we give the eggs back?” Harry interrupted, desperate to change the topic.

“Oh no!” Fudge said, holding the lapels of his robe and rocking back on his heels. Harry thought the move was meant to make him look jovial and friendly, but really he just looked kind of stupid. “The egg is the clue for the next task! Can’t tell you any more than that. But without it, you most certainly will not be able to succeed.”

“Ah right. So can I go then?”

“But the photos!” Fudge said. “For the Daily Prophet!”

“They have enough.” Snape cut off the minister and quickly steered Harry away from the pitch. “Today has been an ordeal for all the Champions. Let them rest, they’ve given enough.”

Fudge was still calling after them as they made their way to the castle.

“That was well done, Harry,” Snape said when they had made their way through the crowd and down into the dungeons. “That would never have occurred to me.”

“I didn’t really think of it either,” Harry admitted. “I just, well I said something and it came out in Parseltongue, and I guess she understood.”

“So she did…” Snape mused. “Well, I am certain your fellow Slytherins have prepared a party. Do remember there is class tomorrow.” It was difficult to tell, but Harry thought he saw the barest hint of a smile on the man’s face.

The other Slytherins did indeed have a party planned. Draco and Blaise snuck down to the kitchens and furnished a massive feast on several sideboards by the windows. The loud music was drowned out by the roar when he stepped into the room.

“Harry Potter, the Slytherin Champion and future Triwizard Tournament Winner!” someone shouted, and they cheered again. He found himself being swept up on the shoulders of some of the seventh years and carried around the room.

Eventually his rumbling stomach convinced them to let him down and he loaded up a plate of food before settling in front of the fire with his friends. They hadn’t understood his exchange with the dragon, so he found himself telling the story. Reluctantly at first, the last time he had used Parseltongue in front of his fellow students they had decided that it was a sign he was the heir of Slytherin and was determined to kill all of the Muggleborns in the school. But now, his ability was being touted as a trait befitting a true Slytherin.

He hadn’t wanted to be Champion, hated it, in fact. But that did not stop him from enjoying the acclaim of his housemates. They were a proud lot, fiercely protective of their own from outsiders. However, there was not always unity within the house. While they had not openly despised him in the second year for the most part, he hadn’t been particularly accepted. Not tonight. Tonight he was their beloved Champion, and he decided he was going to let himself enjoy it. 

When things had quieted down, most of the young students either fallen asleep on the floor, or off in the dorms, a couple of the seventh years asked Harry about the egg. He’d kept it close to him all evening, and it was currently nestled into the armchair beside him, but he hadn’t paid it much attention. He picked it up and looked it over. 

“Dunno,” he said with a shrug. “Fudge said it was the next clue, but I’m not sure how.” The egg was covered in ornate scrollwork. Spirals and swirls inlaid on the gold. It was quite heavy. He turned it over in his hands until his fingers brushed a button on the top. Curious, he pushed it.

Whatever he thought was not what he got. The egg split through the center and fell open in his hands. The room filled with a horrific screeching and Harry nearly dropped the egg in his lap. Crabbe and Goyle who were at the sideboards getting more food dropped their plates, hands over their ears. The students that had fallen asleep on pillows or couches around the room were awake and looking angry.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Harry shouted as he slammed the egg shut. He was relieved when the noise stopped, and the halves clicked together.

“What the bloody hell was that?!” demanded Draco. He looked positively scandalized.

“I don’t know!” Harry said, repeating it again as he turned the egg over. “Maybe it’s broken? That can’t… well it can’t be right. Any ideas?” He looked over at his friends. Draco was shaking his head. Pansy and Blaise were curled up together in an armchair opposite him, both looking thoughtful.

“It’s…” Blaise began. “I can’t place it. But it’s… I’ve heard something like that, I think. I just… can’t remember where. Can I see it?” she asked, holding out her hand.

Harry passed the egg over.

“Would you mind if I borrowed it for a day or two?” she asked.

“I’m not sure that’s allowed…” he started. “Bugger it, I don’t care. Have at.”

Blaise and Pansy immediately began studying the markings intently. “Don’t worry, Harry,” Pansy said. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Even if we have to ask Hermione for help!” Blaise said with a giggle.


	13. Happy Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seemed fitting I post this before the holiday season is over... so here it is!
> 
> My 2019 goal is to write Book 5 by November, and write Book 6 during NaNo. I'm hoping as we reach the good Snarry stuff (which will be a lot more prevalent in books 5+ they'll be faster to write, as really all this has just been set up, lmao!) Ambitiously... I'm also hoping to finish my original novel in 2019. Aaaand, I think I'm going to tackle the Modern Mrs Darcy reading challenge this year. https://modernmrsdarcy.com/reading-challenge-2019/ I love using books to broaden my horizons. 
> 
> I'd love to hear your 2019 goals :D Bookish or otherwise!

Harry did not get in trouble for releasing the dragon. He hated that his fame protected him all the while being grateful he was not going to be punished. The Daily Prophet ran a series of articles by Rita Skeeter discussing how he was beginning to show signs of corruption. They alleged with an unsurprising lack of subtlety that he had used the dark arts to enter the tournament, and then made a dark pact with the dragon in order to win the first task.

Fortunately it seemed most of the Hogwarts students wrote that off as ridiculous rumors. A few of the first years from the other houses, and some overly dramatic second and third years, would jump out of his way when they saw him coming down the hall. And he caught a few sidelong glances sent his way. It seemed that, as a whole, his success had bought the general good will of the school. He had won, and so he was their Champion. The thought disgusted him, but he determined not to dwell on it.

Autumn faded and suddenly, there was snow. It was less cold this year than last and Harry wondered how much that had to do with the lack of Dementors. They leeched not only happiness, but warmth as well.

Harry was putting the finishing touches on his end-of-term potion - two counterclockwise stirs with his wand, and a drop of mermaid tears - when Snape cleared his throat. 

“There is one final order of business, the Yule Ball.” His announcement was met with confused murmurs, but no one dared speak up directly. “It is a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament that over the holidays, a ball is held. The dresscode is formal attire, attendance is optional for all but the Champions and limited to fourth years and above - although a younger student may be invited as a date.”

Two Gryffindor girls burst into fits of giggles. Snape fixed them with an icy glare and they fell silent.

“The ball will begin at eight o’clock on Christmas Day, and continue until midnight. Potter, please remain after class.”

Everyone turned to look at him, but Harry simply shrugged. He finished his potion and siphoned off a sample into a vial that he labeled carefully and brought up to Snape’s desk. He stood there, waiting, until the other students had finished, gathered their things, and left.

“I will write you a note for your next class,” Snape began and Harry nodded. “It is another tradition of the Yule Ball that the Champions and their partners begin the dancing.”

“Partners?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Snape said. “I am certain that any one of the Slytherin girls will have been trained to dance since they could walk. It is a tradition of pureblood families, most of your housemates are.” He paused thoughtfully and then added. “The boys will have learned as well.”

Harry felt a blush creep up his neck, coloring his ears, and wished he could disappear.

“Harry,” Snape said seriously, “there is no shame if you wish to bring a male partner. There may be those outside these walls, in the wizard and muggle worlds, who would judge a person for who they are attracted to. But within Hogwarts, any comment or remark is grounds for expulsion.”

“I’m… that is to say…”

“I would,” he continued gently, “suggest that you do not bring Mr. Weasley. While Draco may choose to flout house rivalries by bringing Fred. And I would applaud him for doing so. You may find some of your housemates are not as supportive should you stand up with a member of another house.” After a long pause, Snape added, “Know that whatever you decide, I will support your choice.”

“I understand, sir,” Harry squeaked. 

“What did Snape want?” Draco asked as they were watching their transfigured guinea pigs toddle around the desks. They hadn’t had a chance to speak before now as Professor McGonagall did not permit even the hint of whispers while she was teaching, and Merlin help a student caught gossiping before they had mastered the current lesson. 

But they had both managed the transfiguration, although Harry thought his guinea pig’s fur looked a little feathery, he supposed it would do.

“Apparently,” Harry whispered back, looking to make sure they weren’t overheard, “it’s tradition for the Champions to start the dance, with their dates.”

Draco nodded, completely unsurprised. “Yes, that would make sense. And you can’t dance for shit, can you?”

Harry shook his head ruefully.

“Well, I suppose we’d best get practicing then. Tonight, after dinner. We’ll find an empty classroom.”

“You’d teach me how to dance?”

“Of course! Can’t let you get up there and make an arse of yourself. You’d make Slytherin look bad. And me, by association! Any idea who you’re going to ask?”

Harry shook his head again. “I haven’t gotten that far. Snape said I could take anyone as long as they were in Slytherin. Didn’t think it mattered if I took a girl or a bloke.”

“Anyone you fancy?”

Avoiding his friend’s gaze, Harry looked down.

“There is!” Draco practically crowed. “Who is it?”

“No one I can take to the dance. No, it’s not even like that,” he quickly added. “Just… someone who looks fit.”

Draco began looking around the classroom. “Fit hmm? Maybe… someone who plays Quidditch?” Harry rolled his eyes. “Better ask someone quick though,” Draco warned. “I will work my magic on your dancing, but if you’re up there all alone then even Merlin himself probably couldn’t help you.”

Harry laughed, wondering who would put up with him long enough to dance.

The announcement of the Yule Ball seemed to have cast a spell over the school. Not the faux-cheer that Gilderoy had tried to stir up for Valentine’s, but a true sense of excitement. The school had not hosted a dance in memory, but it seemed Snape was correct, most of the Slytherins had grown up attending formal events which often included dancing.

The first night at dinner Harry received several notes, asking him to be their date to the ball. They continued the next morning, much to his dismay. He sent each back a polite refusal. He’d rather go alone and make an idiot of himself, than go with someone who only wanted to be on his arm because he was a Champion, or worse… the Boy Who Lived.

Fred sent Draco what must have been quite an interesting invitation because Draco’s ears had gone bright red and the boy had staunchly refused to show anyone. Pansy had been asked by someone, although she refused to reveal who it was. Harry had a suspicion, but he was going to let her have her secret.

Harry knew immediately who he wanted to ask and set out to track her down. He spotted her bent over something in an armchair by the windows in the dungeon. “Blaise! I wanted, I mean I was hoping… Just… would you want to go to the ball with me?” The words fell out, tumbling over each other.

She looked up and grinned, but then a reserved looked passed over her face. “Harry, are you sure?”

“Definitely! Look, you’re one of the best friends I’ve had since I got here. And I know we don’t always hang out a lot. But I think it’d be a great time, if you’re up for it. I mean, I understand if you don’t want to. I’m a terrible dancer, no one would blame you.”

Blaise laughed. “I’d love to. I haven’t gotten my dress yet. I can match it to your dress robes.”

“Dress robes?” Harry wrinkled his eyebrows as he sank into the armchair opposite her.

“Boys…” she shook her head with a smirk. “Yes. Dress robes. If you are going to be my date you are NOT wearing your school robes. Even if Draco has managed to civilize you somewhat and you like very nice in your regular robes. You cannot go to a ball without dress robes.”

“I guess that makes sense,” he admitted. “I had some from last year, but they probably don’t fit. We didn’t go shopping this year, Mr. Malfoy just ordered all of our texts and supplies delivered.”

“Well, I’m sure Mr. Malfoy can help you get some new robes. And if for any reason he can’t, let me know. My mum would love another excuse to go shopping. Although if we do that you’ll probably wind up with at least half a dozen.”

“Do you have a color preference? You wanted us to match, right?”

“Not red and gold,” she laughed. “Unless you want to give all of Slytherin a heart attack. And test your food for poison the rest of your time at Hogwarts.” Harry chuckled. “We should ask Draco and Pansy. That way none of us will clash.”

Harry shrugged, “As long as I’m wearing clothes, I’m good. I’ll leave that to people who know better.”

Blaise snickered. “Actually, I was going to come find you.” She pointed to the egg.

“Oh?” Harry leaned forward eagerly. “Did you figure it out?”

“Not entirely. Close though, I can taste it. I have a few theories about the way sound travels. It was something I was reading about. Well, part of music practice. There’s music theory behind the screeching, I just can’t put my finger on it.”

As it happened, Mr. Malfoy had anticipated them. When Harry and Draco returned to their dorms, Dobby was waiting for them. He bowed, expressed great pleasure at seeing the both of them, and produced a silver tape measure. Nott snickered as Dobby took their measurements, writing them down in a small notebook that he carried in a pouch under his tunic.

“We’s all be learning our numbers!” he squeaked happily. “Mistress Granger was speaking with Master Malfoys in the summer and said it would be useful!” His ears shook with excitement. “Some of the other house elves be thinking it is silly. But Dobby loves it!”

He finished with the measurements he tucked the notebook away and repeated back carefully the instructions Draco had given him. When he asked Harry if he had any preferences he shook his head. “None. As long as you discussed it with Blaise and found out what she needs.” Dobby promised to pop into the girls’ dormitory next and talk with both Pansy and Blaise.

Two nights later Pansy burst into the common room, she was laughing hysterically with tears pouring down her face. “Merlin’s beard you will not believe what just happened!” She wiggled in beside Harry on the couch and leaned forward. “Ron Weasley just asked Fleur Delacour to the Yule Ball!”

“I wouldn’t say he asked her, precisely,” Draco said, following behind Pansy and pulling up another chair.”

“Well, no!” she squeaked.

“What happened?” Blaise and Harry asked at the same time.

“He’d been sort of following her around for a while. Then he walked up and stood right in front of her. She asked if he needed something and he just froze.”

“His mouth was hanging open.” Pansy imitated a gaping fish, “And he just sort of…” she made a flailing gesture with her hands.

“She asked again if she could help him, and he just shouted at her. Right in her face.”

“He did NOT!” Blaise said.

“He did!” Pansy grinned. “It was amazing. He didn’t even wait for an answer. Just ran off.”

“I sent Fred right back to the Common Room to find out more and told him he HAS to tell us everything or I’m not going to the Ball with him.”

The four dissolved into giggles and Harry shook his head. “I’d have really liked to see that.”

“Oh don’t worry,” Draco said airily. “I would imagine it won’t be long before he does something equally ridiculous and we’ll forget all about this. The Weasel is good for that.”

Their dress robes arrived a week later along with a note from Lucius wishing them a Happy Christmas, and a proposed meeting in Hogsmeade the day after the ball for a late lunch. Harry immediately asked Snape for permission to attend and found out that the Potions Master would be escorting him and Draco into the village as he had been invited, along with Sirius and Remus. 

As pleased as he was with this turn of events, Harry wished he could bypass the Yule Ball and simply have Christmas at home again. Malfoy Manor truly had become home. It was the only place in the world he felt entirely safe, except perhaps Spindleshaft Lane. He wondered how Aren and Charlie were doing, and if there was any chance he could convince Professor Snape to take him there over the holidays.

The castle, normally rather quiet over the holidays, felt ever more crowded. They still managed to find time for chilly games of Quidditch on the pitch, and several epic snowball fights. It was almost enough to make Harry forget about the Tournament. Blaise had still not figured out the egg, but assured Harry she was close. He suppressed his guilt over the fact that she was doing all of the work by reasoning that the other Champions likely had help too.

Then it was Christmas Day. He finished putting on his dress robes and tried vainly to tame his hair. Draco wore his hair loose and tousled, but for some reason although the look seemed identical to his hair first thing in the morning it had taken the blond an hour to get it right. When he spotted Harry struggling with his hair he shook his head and came over with an armful of potions.

“Potter,” he said with a sigh, “your hair is a right mess and I am only doing this because I love Blaise. Sit.”

Draco had tried a few times to teach Harry to do his own hair but it always ended in a bigger mess than he had started. Harry sat quietly while Draco used a combination of spells and potions to get Harry’s hair to drape in soft waves, a little like his own but darker and longer. 

When Harry put his glasses back on and looked in the mirror his eyes widened in surprise. “Wow!”

“Wow is right,” Draco preened. “I am a truly brilliant wizard.”

They left the dorms together in search of their dates. Blaise was waiting in the Common Room, her long black hair was in tiny braids that fell to her waist. The silver gown she wore set off her dark skin perfectly.

“Blaise! You look amazing!” Harry said, echoed by Draco.

She smiled warmly. “Not so bad yourself Harry!” she gave him a look over and then grinned at Draco, “Nice work on his hair.”

“Couldn’t let you down,” he said, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Where are you meeting Fred?”

“He said he’d be waiting for me outside. I told him he didn’t have to, you know, with everyone. But he said he’d be my brave lion tonight.” The last sentence was spoken barely above a whisper and bright red spots appeared on Draco’s cheeks.

“Should we give you a minute, first?” Harry teased.

Draco started to shake his head, and then, the spots on his cheeks growing darker nodded, “Just a minute though, I don’t want to mess up my hair.”

Harry’s laughter followed Draco out of the common room.

Blaise smoothed her dress and tugged Harry off to the side. “I just wanted, well I just wanted to say thanks. You’ve all been awesome about…” she waved her hand at herself. “All this, and that’s really cool. This though, it means a lot.”

Harry smiled at her, “You look so much happier, more… like yourself. I mean, it’s not like you were always moping before, or anything. Just… it suits you. And I’m honored to have you as my date tonight.”

She smiled back at him and kissed his cheek. “You’re a good man, Harry James Potter.” She glanced at the door and grinned wickedly. “Shall we go interrupt them?”

He offered her his arm and escorted her outside. Draco and Fred were nowhere to be seen, but Harry cleared his throat loudly and the two appeared from around a corner, looking sheepish and a little disheveled. They wore matching dress robes, although where Draco’s had green and silver accents, Fred had gold and scarlet. His own dress robes were dark navy, with hints of silver that match Blaise’s dress.

“Does anyone know where Pansy is?” Draco asked. “I’m desperate to know her date!”

“She said she would meet us outside the Great Hall. George and Hermione too - they make a cute couple. C’mon, I’m dying to know who it is too.”

The area outside of the Great Hall was fairly crowded. They found George and Hermione quickly enough. Hermione’s dress was similar to Blaise’s but rose gold. She wore her hair in braids too, but hers were delicately curled and piled on top of her head. George’s dress robes were cut like Harry’s, only with the rose gold accents where Harry had silver. 

“You all look stunning!” Pansy said from behind them. Harry turned to see her on the arm of - “Viktor Krum. Meet my friends!” She introduced them all and he bowed politely to the boys, kissing the back of the girls’ hands with a small bow. “Are you surprised?”

“I didn’t know you were friends,” Harry said.

“He likes to study in the back of the library. And he needed some help finding books.”

Viktors voice was low and accented. “Pansy was kind enough to escort me tonight,” he said smiling at her. “Many of the girls, they… like the Quidditch star.”

Harry nodded, “I understand,” he said - hoping he didn’t sound too arrogant, but Viktor nodded.

“Yes, Boy Who Lived… famous. But friends are good!”

“Yes they are,” Harry said, looking around at his friends with a smile.

Professor McGonagall stepped over, pulling the Champions and their dates along with her to line up in front of the doors. Harry squeezed Blaise’s arm as they lined up behind Fleur and her date, a Durmstrang boy who merely nodded at Viktor and then ignored them. At the front was Cedric, on his arm was the Ravenclaw Seeker, Cho Chang. She occasionally peeked over her shoulder to look at Harry and Blaise, pouting. But then she turned back to Cedric and whispered something in his year that made the tall boy blush.

“Girls…” Blaise said with a sigh.

“Girls.” Agreed Harry. “She always seems mad at me for something.”

“She doesn’t like that you don’t fall all over yourself and let her win,” said Pansy, leaning forward. “It’s her strategy in Quidditch, and the only reason she’s on the team. It’s a shame, because there are a few Ravenclaw girls who are much better players.”

“Champions!” McGonagall called their attention. “It’s time to open the dancing!”

Harry took a deep breath and straightened the way Draco had taught him, imagining a string reaching through his spine up the top of his head. He held his arm out to Blaise and she took it, they swept into the hall together.

The dancing was not completely terrible. He did not like being the center of attention, even split four ways, it was still too much. But having a friend with him helped. Blaise counted under her breath as the music began and gently nudged him to start. He fell into the rhythm of the music and led her around the floor. Blaise was a brilliant dancer and she chatted with him lightly, not so much that he lost his place, but enough that he could almost forget where they were.

Slowly other couples began to join them on the dance floor. It was magical, Harry admitted. The soft music, the lights… it really was spectacular. They danced several dances until Blaise suggested they get a drink and something to eat.

Fred and Draco followed them off the dance floor and they were joined shortly by Pansy and Viktor, then Hermione and George. The group claimed a table at the edge of the dance floor and camped there for the rest of the night. 

The only excitement of the evening came when Ron Weasley, who had been glaring at them all night, stormed over, apparently drunk on Butterbeer, and started to shout at Hermione for being a traitor. George had his wand out and at his brother’s throat before anyone could blink. His expression furious, he marched Ron out of the Great Hall to a round of applause. Hermione looked horrified, but Pansy and Blaise wrapped their arms around her and hugged her tight.

George returned a few minutes later, looking satisfied. “Well, that was a nice bit of wand work if I do say so myself.” He took a swig of Butterbeer and dropped into the chair next to Hermione. “If he says your name, boils will spell “WANKER” on his forehead. And if he comes within thirty feet of you he’ll find it damn near impossible to sit down.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “You have all the fun you want with that, luv. He’s an entitled git and needs to learn his lesson.”

It was well past two in the morning before the New Marauders made their way back to their respective dormitories. Viktor had promised to spend some time with them before the holidays were over, showing them a few Quidditch moves. And they all promised to meet up in Hogsmeade for dessert later that day.


	14. Christmas Part Two And a Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, at the rate I'm posting these I need to get my ass working on the next book! I unfortunately was not able to write it during NaNo. I should get on that... lol
> 
> Anyway, here's the chapter! <3

Lucius Malfoy had secured a large private room at a boarding house above the Three Broomsticks, and had managed to magic a tree up the stairs. The entire room was festooned in green and silver twinkling lights nestled into pine garland. It was a little after noon when Snape arrived with Draco and Harry. Remus and Sirius were sitting together on a couch near the fireplace, and although Sirius had a decidedly uncomfortable look on his face, he managed a small smile as he got up to give his godson a hug.

“Sorry we weren’t here yesterday,” said Harry. “You didn’t have to wait on Christmas, do all of this, for my sake. Draco could have skipped the ball.”

“Nonsense!” said Lucius at the same time Draco said, “Give over.”

“The day doesn’t matter,” Remus added. “What’s important is spending time with loved ones.”

Sirius and Snape exchanged a look that could be generously described as just slightly chilled, but took their seats on opposites sides of the room without a word.

The tree looked impossibly large for the space, and Harry was certain several kinds of magic were at work. It was piled high with presents, and Draco and Harry added their own to the mix. Everyone congratulated Harry on his victory against the dragon, apologizing for not attending in person - visitors were not permitted- and asking what had made him think of using Parseltongue. He recounted the scene at the request of Sirius, and tried to ignore the disappointed look on his godfather’s face when he tried to brush it off.

“I didn’t want to be a Champion anyway.”

Sirius shrugged off the comment and beamed with pride as he remarked how like a Gryffindor it was to compete like that. Harry scowled, but held his tongue so as not to ruin the day.

“Any ideas who put my name in the Goblet?” Harry asked once all the gifts were opened and they were snacking on treacle and tarts.

The adults shook their heads.

“There’s really only one bit of news, and even that is… well we are not sure if it’s related,” Lucius said. “Barty Crouch has stopped showing up for work.”

“He was at the first task,” Harry said. “I didn’t see him, but Pansy said he gave me a nine.”

Draco nodded, “I think he left right after. He wasn’t with the group that was losing their minds over the dragon on the loose.”

“The Prophet’s been reporting that he’s ill, won’t answer floo calls. Just sends notes,” Lucius said.

“Why would he want to kill me? Was he a… you know?” Harry asked, giving both Lucius and Snape a sidelong glance.

“A Death Eater, Harry. You can say the words,” Snape said gently, ignoring the disapproving glare from Sirius. “And no, he was not.”

“He wasn’t,” Lupin agreed. “But his son was.”

“What?” Harry asked, stunned.

“His son was named during Karkaroff’s trial,” Lupin said.

“After he tried to name me,” Snape said with a sniff.

“Unsuccessfully,” Sirius muttered under his breath.

“Indeed,” replied Snape, having heard him clearly.

“He sent his son to Azkaban. His wife passed away not long after. And then the son.” Lupin shook his head sadly. “I can think of no reason for him to enter you in the tournament.”

After the holidays were over Harry had a much harder time ignoring the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. It was only a few days difference, but February seemed a lot nearer from January than it did in December.

Blaise was working on the egg whenever she had a spare moment, they all were. Meeting in the kitchen late at night and putting up a sound barrier so they wouldn’t disturb the house elves while they worked. 

Nothing made it sound better, no matter how many times they let it play on. It did, they discovered, repeat itself after a time. Suggesting that the sound was some kind of message and not simply random noise. Still, it made no sense. Harry started to wonder if his egg was in fact broken and considered asking Viktor how his had sounded.

It was impossible not to obsess over. Everything seemed to pale in comparison. He sat in class, trying to listen to Professor Moody lecture on the important of vigilance, but he found himself trying to replay the screeching message of the egg instead. A few of his teachers cut him some slack, although not overtly.

Flitwick pulled him aside and gave him a pat on the arm, telling him that he was excused from homework as he was certain that Harry had more important things to do. While he knew the man was only trying to help, it made Harry nervous. What if the clue was something that needed a lot of preparation? After all, they’d had a long time to work on it. But what if he needed to brew some kind of potion, or acquire tools, something to help him survive whatever task they were set next. It rattled around in his brain, making him more and more anxious as January trudged on.

Finally, after he forgot to hand in his homework in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Moody called him to stay after class. Harry doubted very much that the grizzled ex-Auror was going to give him a pat on the hand and excuse him the work. More likely he would come out with an extra essay and detention. So he was surprised when Moody gestured for him to sit down. He took a seat across from the desk and Moody leaned back in his chair, licking his lips before taking a swig from the ever-present flask at his hip.

“Egg giving you some trouble, Harry?” he asked without preamble.

“Umm.. Yes sir, it is.”

Moody nodded and then laughed gruffly. “None of your Slytherin brains can figure it out?”

Harry stammered, “I didn’t. I mean. They wouldn’t. I’m supposed to work it out on my own, sir.”

“Course you are, Harry, course you are. And of course all the other Champions are going it alone too. You’re no fool. And that head of house of yours might be an evil son of a bitch, but he’s not stupid either.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to say, he shifted in his chair, scuffing his feet against the floor and looking around the room. A broken mirror lay against the wall behind the desk with shadowy figures dancing across the glass.

Moody followed his gaze and nodded. “It’s a Foe Glass,” he explained. “Shows my enemies, all of ‘em. Suppose a man like me has made a few over the years,” he laughed. “Only need to worry when they get close enough to see. But it reminds me that they’re out there.” His voice dropped low as though he was speaking to himself, not Harry. “They’re always out there, just waiting.” He seemed to snap back to the present. “So, you haven’t figured out the egg, none of you?”

“No, sir,” Harry said.

“Hmmm,” he mused. Then he leaned forward, putting a twisted finger to the side of his nose in a knowing gesture. “Water, Harry. That’s the key… water.” He straightened. “Now, off to class with you!”

Harry wasn’t sure what to make of it. Snape helping him, or at least, supporting him, didn’t seem as strange. But Moody hardly knew him. Didn’t know him - although maybe he had known his parents. Maybe that’s why the man was giving him a clue. He wondered how far that magical eye of Moody’s could see. If he knew all the other Champions had figured the egg out long ago and were preparing for the ask, and just didn’t want Harry to get killed because he wasn’t smart enough.

The thought was disturbing. But maybe Moody’s clue would be enough. He managed to catch his friends at dinner, telling them he’d gotten a clue for the egg and they needed to meet in the kitchens after curfew.

When they’d all gathered together, Harry told them what had happened. About the clue, and his suspicions. They readily agreed that he likely had known James and Lily and was just trying to help. 

Suddenly, Blaise sat up and smacked her hand against the chair. “Oh of COURSE!” The others tried to ask what she was on about, but she was already up and moving. After a brief conversation with the head kitchen elf she levitated a large cauldron over. Flicking her wand at it she said, ‘Aguamenti!” and the cauldron began to fill with water. Once it was full she pulled the egg from her bag.

They watched, curious, as she submerged the egg completely in the cauldron and opened it up. The sound was muffled, but it was definitely not the ear shattering screech they’d heard every other time they’d opened it. She closed it before pulling it out of the water and handed the dripping egg to George. “Here, hold this a mo.” She tied her hair back and took the egg. This time she dunked her head in the water alongside the egg.

After a few moments she straightened. Water poured down her face but she ignored it and looked over at Harry. “Oh, Harry. I’m so sorry.” 

His hands shook as he took the egg from her. He tensed as he pressed the button, preparing for an onslaught of noise. What came instead was a chorus of beautiful, inhuman voices. For a moment he was so taken with the music that he forgot to pay attention to the words. He had to come up to take a breath before submerging again to listen.

"Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you re searching, ponder this:

What we’ve taken you'll sorely miss,

An hour long you'll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour-the prospect's black,

Too late, it's gone, it won’t come back"

He stood up, pushing the wet hair out of his face. “I don’t… I don’t understand. An hour… to find something they took?”

Blaise was drying her braids with a kitchen towel, but she looked up at Harry sympathetically. I don’t remember all of it, exactly. But I think it’s the mermaids, in the Black Lake.”

Fred and George looked at her, surprised. “There are mermaids in there?”

She nodded. “There are. They don’t come up to the surface well, ever, really. They’re not particularly fond of humans. But we see them sometimes, in the windows of the Common Room.”

“WAIT-” George said, everyone turned to look at him. “Your Common Room is… underwater?!”

Blaise laughed. “You didn’t know? It’s in the dungeons, underground? The windows look out into the lake instead of the grounds.”

“That’s…’ George stammered. “Well, that’s actually pretty cool.”

“Honestly, luv,” Hermione said shaking her head. “Don’t you ever read? There’s a whole section in ‘Hogwarts - A History’ that talks about each of the common rooms and how they’re different.”

Harry toweled off his hair. “Look, this is all very fascinating, but… I kind of need to figure this out.”

They all took turns listening to the song. Pansy pulled out a parchment and she was writing down the fragments as people recounted what they’d heard as they came up for air. Finally she had the entire script and read it out loud.

“So,” she said tucking her quill away and handing Harry the parchment. “It’s well… it is a bit problematic.”

“Surviving underwater for an hour?” Draco said, “I’d say it’s more than a bit problematic.”

Harry dropped into a chair with a sigh. The task was two weeks away, he could barely swim. “Does anyone have an ideas?” he asked glumly.

His friends were quiet, shaking their heads.

“Look, Harry,” Pansy broke the silence. “There’s still time. I’m sure we’ll think of something. I mean, they aren’t just going to throw you into the lake and let you drown.”

“Oh really?” Harry was unable to hide the disgust from his voice. Anger at the entire situation was the only thing keeping him functional. “They threw us into a ring with a bloody DRAGON, Pans. A DRAGON, that breathes FIRE… and they told us to nick something from underneath it. I don’t think they’re going to be squeamish about chucking us into the lake.”

“It’s too bad the Giant Squid wasn’t a sea serpent. Then you could just talk to it too, and watch everyone’s heads explode as it fetched the item for you,” Fred said. Draco elbowed his boyfriend in the ribs, but Harry laughed dryly.

“That would be brilliant, but I don’t think I’m going to have that kind of luck.” He stuffed the parchment into his pocket and picked up the egg. “Thanks for the help, everyone, really. If you have any ideas about how I can not die, let me know?” He left the kitchens without waiting to see if anyone followed.


	15. The Second Task Redux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll confess, I'm tickled pink for this chapter (even though I actually hate tickling... please don't tickle me). Sorry I forgot to post it on the weekend! I was doing so WELL at being consistent for like, a whole two weeks!
> 
> I hope everyone is having a lovely January. I'm on pins and needles waiting to find out if our house sells (we find out in two weeks) and it's very hard to focus on anything except that, lol. Have managed, a little, to plug away at an original fiction novel, and to make some rough outlines for Book 5. And I am curious if anyone would be at all interested in a newsletter? two of my author friends write them, and I confess I really love them. I used to blog but idk... maybe newsletters is better? This is probably the totally not right place to ask but when have I ever been conventional?!

Harry sat upright in bed, wondering how he could possibly be so daft. Could it really be so simple? Would it be cheating? Leaning against the headboard, he pulled the covers up to his chin he decided he didn’t care if it was, and started to plan. He would need help, more help than the new Marauders could give him. Not for the first time, Harry was grateful that he had adults in his life that loved and supported him.

When morning came he was sitting outside Snape’s office, back against the door. He fell onto the professor’s legs when the door opened and found himself looking up at a very confused man.

“Harry? What…”

“Sir, I need your help.”

Snape’s entire demeanor shifted. He nodded and reached out a hand to pull Harry to his feet. “Are you injured?” Snape looked him over for any sign of trauma.

“No, no it’s nothing like that.” Harry glanced down the hall, there were a few students on their way to breakfast so he pushed up on his toes to whisper in Snape’s ear. “It’s for the second task.”

Snape nodded and pulled him into the office, closing and warding the door. Harry outlined his plan and what he needed. Snape listened without interrupting until he was finished.

“I can give you a letter to access my Gringott’s vault, so anything we need won’t be a problem.”

It was Snape’s only objection. “Nonsense, Harry. I will take the liberty of speaking for Lucius to tell you the money will not be an obstacle. And if he is somehow unable, then I will see to it.” Snape waved off Harry’s protests. “Off to breakfast, you still have classes today. I will arrange everything for the weekend.”

“Thank you, professor.”

Harry left feeling lighter than he had in weeks. He smiled as he sat down to breakfast. It was clever, if it worked. And he was more than a little pleased with himself for having thought of it. He told his friends not to worry, that he had come up with a solution, but refused to say what, assuring them it would be worth the surprise. By Friday night, everything was in place.

The next two weeks went by in a blink. Pulling together his plan took every moment of spare time. He took to secluding himself in the back corner of the library, waving to Pansy and Viktor but declining their invitation to join them. 

Then, it was the morning of the second task. To his surprise, Harry found that he was quite hungry and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Pansy and Draco were nowhere to be found, sitting down next to Blaise he asked if she had seen them.

“Not since last night. Pansy had homework she wanted to finish, and I think Draco went off with Fred. Are you all ready?” She eyed the plate in front of him, piled high with eggs, sausage, beans and toast, with a smile.

“Pretty sure!” Harry said, digging in.

“Still not going to hint at what you have planned? Apparently there’s a rumor in Gryffindor that you’re charming the mermaids, you can probably thank George for that one.”

Laughing, Harry shook his head. “Not telling. I’m hoping it pisses them all off though.”

Blaise snorted and patted him on the back, “Atta boy, Harry, atta boy.”

When he was finished he went back up to the dorms, wondering if Draco would be there. But the room was empty. Thankful for the privacy, Harry pulled out a trunk from under his bed, unlocked the series of charms and wards with his wand, and got dressed. 

“Ridiculous time of year to send students into the Black Lake,” Snape muttered. “May I?”

They were in Snape’s office, waiting for the second task to begin. Harry wasn’t sure what Snape was asking permission for, but nodded. Snape waved his wand from Harry’s head down to his toes, a tingling warmth followed, and stayed even when Snape put his wand away.

“In the future,” Snape remarked as he pulled out the large wheeled trunk, “it is wise to ask what someone is asking permission for, prior to giving your consent.”

Harry shrugged, “I trust you completely. Whatever you were going to do, it wouldn’t be bad.”

He couldn’t decipher the expression that crossed Snape’s face. “Thank you, Harry. I will remove the charm afterward.”

“Thank you, maybe you can show me how to do it sometime? Seems handy.”

Snape nodded, then indicated it was time to go.

One end of the Black Lake had been completely transformed. There were large stands on either side of a series of docks. Four docks had a small covered area, ladders, and a banner with the crest of the Champion’s school. A fifth dock held the judge’s table, Harry noted the small blue warming fires encircling the teachers and rolled his eyes.

Blaise was waiting for him on his dock with Fred, George, and Hermione, but Draco and Pansy were notably absent. She was wrapped in a thick fur cloak, shivering as the breeze came off the Lake with an icy blast. “I don’t see them anywhere. They were probably late and got stuck at the back, and now someone isn’t letting them through. Oh! Thank you, professor.”

Snape nodded as he repeated the warming charm on each of the students.

Ludo Bagman was bustling on the docks, he grinned when he saw Harry. “All right, Harry? Know what you’re going to do?” When Harry nodded his grin widened and he marched over to the judge’s table. Karkaroff, Maxine, and Dumbledore were waiting, along with a thin, pale redhead.

“Crouch is still out sick,” Fred said. “They’ve got Percy taking his place.”

Bagman pointed his wand at his throat, and suddenly his voice boomed over the lake. “Welcome! To the second task of the Triwizard Cup. Last night, under cover of darkness, something precious was taken from each of our Champions and banished to the depths of the Black Lake. They will have one hour, and one hour only to recover what was taken from them.”

Percy lifted a large hourglass, showing it to the crowd who gasped appropriately.

As Harry listened, he got a sneaking suspicion in his gut about what had been taken. Bagman was still talking, but Harry stepped next to Snape and asked quietly, “They took Draco, and Pansy… didn’t they? That’s the precious thing they took?” Snape nodded, keeping his eyes on the judges’ dock. “And if we don’t rescue them in time?”

“They will be fine.”

Harry nodded just as Bagman started the countdown, “THREE, TWO, ONE!” A shrill whistle pierced the air. 

Harry threw off the cloak, revealing the full body wetsuit he was wearing underneath. He shucked off his shoes and threw open the trunk. Inside was a full set of SCUBA gear.

Lucius had arranged everything. He contacted a Muggle SCUBA instructor and said he wished to arrange private lessons for his son. They were, he claimed, on a strict timeline - because of a vacation to New Zealand - and so would the instructor agree to several intense weekend sessions? Friday nights, Snape escorted Harry down to Hogsmeade where Lucius was waiting to side-along apparate him to the private cabin he had found with a suitable sized swimming pool. Harry worked long days, learning dive tables, the equipment, buddy breathing, everything he would need to survive at the bottom of the Black Lake. They tested gear, practiced putting it on in a rush without help. Until finally the instructor had certified him. Lucius had packed all of the equipment and sent it to Hogwarts with Professor Snape.

In no time he had strapped the tanks to his back and was settling the regulator into his mouth. Through the goggles he caught sight of his friends cheering triumphantly. He gave them a little wave as he fell backwards off the dock and into the lake.

As he sunk into the lake he checked the dive watch on his wrist, noting the time, and pulled the dive blade out of the thigh holster. A huge forest of dark kelp and weed loomed in front of him. Uncertain of where precisely to look Harry decided to swim deeper. Without warning something reached out of the tangle of weeds underneath him and wrapped around his leg.

A grindylow, a small, horned water demon, was snarling up at him. Careful not to strike his own leg, Harry struck out with the blade. It took several slashes, but the demon finally released him, Harry sighed with relief as it sunk back into the weeds. Free, he swam up a bit, hopefully out of the reach of any more demons, and kept swimming.

Occasionally a small fish swam past, or a school fluttered in the corner of his vision, but nothing approached him again. It was quiet, and could have been peaceful if not for the task that loomed over him. Harry could see why muggles did this for fun, and wondered if any witches or wizards did. He reckoned he might take it up, if things would stop trying to kill him long enough for him to have a vacation.

It began so softly he thought he was hearing things… a snippet of the haunting mersong from the egg.

“An hour long you’ll have to look, and to recover what we took…”

Turning a tight circle, he tried to sort out where the song was coming from. He followed the song until it led to an underwater village. Small stone houses, with elaborate carvings and runes were scattered across the floor of the lake. In the center of the village was a large rock, surrounded by merpeople. They looked nothing like the stories. Their skin was shades of grey and green, with long dark green or white hair. Some let it float, loose and wild around their heads. Others had it braided, decorated with shells. All sported long, sharp looking spears.

As he swam towards the rock he saw more merpeople peering out of the houses, watching him. Children trilled excitedly to each other, pointing at the large tanks on his back. He had no idea this community existed down here, and wished he could spend more time getting to know them. Maybe after.

Floating, lifeless above the large rock were four shapes. As he swam closer he recognized Pansy, Draco, Cho Chang, and a small girl he didn’t recognize. From her incredibly pale skin and long white-blond hair, Harry assumed she was related to Fleur in some way. He looked down at his dive watch, they were forty-five minutes into the task and none of the other Champions were in sight.

Which one was for him? The young girl he assumed was for Fleur, and Cho for Cedric? If they were using dates from the Yule Ball, then why wasn’t it Blaise down here? Logic would say that Draco was here for him, and then Pansy for Viktor? They were both his friends though, what if he was wrong? Not for the first time, Harry fumed at the stupidity of the tournament. 

He knew nothing would happen to the ones left behind, Snape would have said something if he was not entirely certain. Frustrated he glanced down at his dive watch, less than ten minutes left. It was going to be close no matter what he did, and still the other Champions hadn’t arrived.

Clutching his knife, Harry swam towards Draco. He sliced through the rope easily, and then towed the boy’s unconscious body towards Pansy. As he moved to slice through the rope binding her one of the mermen on guard swam up in front of him.

“No,” he said firmly.

Harry took the regulator out of his mouth, “She’s my friend too!” he tried to say. It was mostly bubbles.

“No,” the merman repeated, this time he hefted his spear slightly.

Harry pointed at Pansy, then at himself. “Mine too!” he tried again. The merman shook his head and several of the others looked ready to join him. Harry sighed, blowing out a large cloud of bubbles. He slid the knife back in the holster and held up his hands in surrender. Bowing to them, he wrapped his arm around Draco and began to swim up.

The crowd roared as they broke the surface of the water. Draco came to immediately, sputtering and shivering. The boy panicked and Harry quickly spat out the regulator and yanked off his face mask.

“Draco, it’s me. It’s okay!”

“Harry?” Draco chattered, his lips already turning blue. “Bloody hell, it’s freezing.”

Harry cussed. It wasn’t too far from the docks, but the lake was freezing. Draco would be suffering from hypothermia long before they got to safety. “Sorry, Draco,” Harry said as he pulled out his wand. “Stupify!” He hit his friend square in the chest and the blond went slack. Wrapping his arm firmly around Draco’s chest Harry swam for the dock.

Fred and Snape were leaning off the edge of the dock when Harry reached it. Fred hauled Draco up, immediately wrapping him in the magically warmed blankets that Blaise had waiting. Snape assisted Harry as he carefully climbed the ladder and started pulling off his diving gear.

“The lake was too cold,” Harry said quickly. “So I Stupified him, I couldn’t think of anything else. I don’t know if that will stop the hypothermia or not.”

“Quick thinking, clever boy,” Madam Pomfrey said. She had hurried over as they were hauled out of the water and was attending to Draco. “It won’t have stopped it completely, but it certainly prevented it from being fatal.” She was running her wand over Draco, a steady stream of soft yellow-orange light was weaving its way around him. “Idiotic plan. Students IN the lake, in FEBRUARY!” Once the light had completely enclosed him it flared once and then shrank into his body.

Satisfied that Draco would be alright, Harry turned to the others. “What happened to the other Champions? I know I didn’t have a lot of time, and no one else had been rescued. They are getting the others from the merpeople village, right?”

Snape pointed to the judge’s table, where three of the mermen were gently handing over Pansy, Cho and the little girl. “Cedric’s bubblehead charm did not protect him against the conditions in the lake, and Krum was unable to find the village in time. He attempted a self-transfiguration and failed to account for the loss in sentience when transforming into an animal. He attacked Fleur - who had been waylaid by the grindylows. She managed to fight him off, but they were both injured and forced to return.” Snape smiled. “You are the only Champion who succeeded. Although Karkaroff has spent the last hour arguing that your use of muggle equipment should disqualify you.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I have argued, on your behalf, that if they did not wish students to prepare, they should not have given you the clues in advance.”

“Thank you.”

“If you are interested, all of the judges except for Karkaroff gave you a ten.”

“He gave you a zero, because he’s a wanker.” George cut in. His face froze as he finished and his eyes darted over to Snape, expecting a reprimand. But Snape merely nodded. George beamed. “I’m going to go check on Pansy, make sure she’s alright. Want to come?”

Harry shook his head. “I want to get out of here, and changed into proper clothes.”

“You sure?” Hermione asked with a smirk as she gave him the once over. “That wetsuit looks damn good on you.”

“’MIONE!” George said, his face full of mock outrage. “YOU WOUND ME!”

Hermione giggled and wrapped her arms around George, planting a kiss on his cheek. “You know I love you best. But he’s fit, and someone should tell him.”

George gave Harry an appraising glance, “Yeah, alright. That’s fair.”

“I’m going to push you both in the lake,” Harry grumbled and snatched up his robe, wrapping it around himself and glaring at them. When he looked over at Blaise she wiggled her eyebrows and Harry groaned. “You’re all horrible and I hate you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Blaise said and gave Harry a hug, kissing him on the cheek. “Congratulations by the way. You won the second task handedly. You’re irst place in the Tournament.”

Although Snape’s charm had kept him perfectly warm and comfortable, Harry desperately wanted to change into some dry clothes and curl up in front of a fire. Magical warmth could only take one so far. Bagman tried to stop him as he pushed his way through the crowds, insisting that he pose for some photos and give an interview. Harry’s string of curses and rude hand gestures had changed the man’s mind, and he stepped back, allowing Harry to break free and return to the castle.


End file.
